Race for Life
by Katie Macpherson
Summary: "His beautiful green eyes were unlike any she had ever seen before...and that's when she knew...he didn't belong here." Ariadne, a beautiful Nephilim damned by Lucifer, has wandered Hell for two thousand years before she meets Dean Winchester. Right away she knows he is different, that he isn't supposed to be there. And she is determined to free him...no matter the cost. [Dean, OC]
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone! So for those of you seeing this story for the first time, please disregard this message and get right on with the first chapter, but for those of you who recognize this story, this message is for you. I published this tale a few months ago under the name One Million Ways to Die, but after taking a careful look at it some weeks ago, I realized I didn't like it and if I wanted to continue with it, then I had better take it down and do some serious revision. So that's exactly what I did. It still has all the same characters and is in exactly the same setting, except I like it much better now and it is under a different name. Now enough of that. Ladies and Gentlemen without further ado, please welcome Chapter 1 of Race for Life, a story which details Dean Winchester's time in Hell.**

Race for Life

Chapter 1: Welcome to Hell

_"__Leave every hope behind, ye who enter here." – Dante Alighieri _

Black…...everything was black. He couldn't see a damn thing. Couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. It wasn't like he hadn't tried. Every time he attempted it though, something pulled at the tops of his shoulders, tearing into skin and muscle.

He had already bitten his lips clean through as he attempted to contain his screams but whenever he did move them, the wounds would open again, coating his chin in fresh blood.

It just made more sense not to move, he couldn't feel his hands anyway and it was probably better that he couldn't see anything because he was sure that he looked Texas Chainsaw Massacre scary.

He licked his lips, tasting blood and fought the urge to gag. How long had he been in the dark? Days? Weeks? Months?

The passage of time had all blended into a seamless darkness that was both without beginning and end. For all he knew, he could have been suspended in that position for eternity and he wouldn't have known the difference.

Maybe he should try again. But just as Dean opened his mouth to scream the name of the person he most wanted an answer from, there was suddenly light and he wasn't in the dark anymore. But the light was even worse. A sickly green sky flashed overhead and white veins of lightning were webbed through it. There was no sun, at least not one that he could see and the last thing that he wanted to do was turn his head and hurt himself even further.

But the light didn't go out again and he had to squint for a few minutes to make out where he was and just what exactly was holding him up.

When it finally came into focus, Dean wished he could sew his eyelids shut.

He was suspended from four chains that anchored around his wrists and ankles at a bone crushing, blood loss inducing pressure. He didn't need a doctor to tell him that they were the reason he couldn't feel his outer extremities. The pain in his shoulder was a result of a large hooked instrument that had been fed through a hole in his skin and was pulling at it every time that he moved.

It all created a horrific picture that was thoroughly nauseating. He closed his eyes, willing all of it to be a terrifying dream. That he would wake up and ACDC would be playing on his alarm clock. He and his brother would grab breakfast at one of the other zillion greasy diners that they had had the pleasure of frequenting over the past few years, and then they would look through the papers for signs of another job.

But when he opened his eyes again, the same green sky appeared above him flashing white lightning across it every few seconds.

Then the screams started.

Up until that point, it had been eerily quiet so the sound of high pitched bloodcurdling auditory noises of terror was both out of place and spine tingling. Dean jerked his head around to see who or what was doing the screaming and let out a moan of agony when he felt skin tear. Forcing himself to relax his muscles, he took a few deep breaths to ward off the sickening feeling in his gut.

Just then, the light became brighter, and suddenly the world was awash in vivid reds, heated yellows and burning oranges. He squinted, trying to make out where it was coming from and then he realized that he was moving.

No, he wasn't moving, rather something was moving towards him.

The clinking of the chains caused him to look up. His eyes widened, he stopped breathing, not even being able to scream and he didn't even feel when he bit through his lip for the millionth time. Blood was normal and so was the pain.

But the creature that was climbing down the chains toward him sure as hell wasn't.

Dean's eyes took in a black form about the size of a small dog making its way agilely down the manacles in the direction of his head. It was then that something else caught his eye and he realized that three other identical black shapes were moving rapidly down the other three chains that anchored his wrist and ankles.

Eight hairy legs appeared as they got closer and eight eyes gleamed with malice. He began to tremble so violently that it would appear to the bystander that he was having a seizure. The spiders however seemed to not feel the shaking of the chains because they began to move faster.

Then…..horrifyingly and all at once, one of the spiders had landed on his chest. Most people would have closed their eyes at this point, but he found that he was simply unable to. In fact, they just opened wider in order to take in every inch of this monster from the pit.

It was midnight black but had white veins of colour running down its legs, it opened its mouth and he saw a pair of razor sharp fangs dripping with saliva and blood. It emitted a peculiar sound and clacked its teeth together edging a little closer to his face.

How Dean didn't pass out at this point, he didn't know. But then he felt a tugging sensation around his wrists and ankles and looked around the bastard sitting on his chest to the other three, who by this time had reached his body.

They were untying him from the chains. At first a sliver of relief eased the tension in his chest, but terror stomped it out a few seconds later. Because if they did that then he would drop like a stone and land…..where? He didn't even know how high up he was.

"Please…..please stop," he managed to force out from between his split lips. The spider however clacked its fangs together in what sounded like a bizarre laugh.

At that exact moment, his legs and arms dropped and the only thing that was holding him up was the hook embedded in his shoulder. He gave a scream of agony when he felt it tear almost clean through the socket. His vision darkened for a moment before he slowly came back into focus and blood dripped down his neck.

When he managed to look up again and peer through the tears of pain that were blurring his vision, he saw that one spider had remained while the rest had disappeared.

It crawled down the chain that was holding him up and perched almost on his shoulder. He felt if he didn't pass out from the pain soon, then he would from sheer terror. Already the edges of his vision were becoming black as his body slowly began to shut down in an attempt to heal itself.

The spider must have realized this because all at once, it came closer, and opened its mouth again. He felt a sharp stabbing pain in his neck and then he went completely limp as the green and white sky above him faded to black, and his last sensation was falling.

Ω

When he came to again, he was lying face down in black mud. He panicked for a moment and flailed his arms, half out of instinct in an attempt to push himself up to pull some air into his starved lungs.

This proved to be a bad move though because as soon as he moved his shoulder, a searing pain ripped through his upper body and it was all he could do to keep from crying out in agony.

Somehow with a Herculean effort, he managed to turn his face to the side and take in a breath. As soon as he did though, he wanted to spit it back out. This was not normal air.

It felt like he had just inhaled a poison that was slowly burning his lungs. It made him light headed and his vision darkened around the edges again.

_Don't pass out….don't pass out, _he screamed in his mind. He started to cough which proved to be worse because whatever poison was in his lungs came up and coated the walls of his throat in what felt like sulphur.

He rolled himself over until he was on his hands and knees and coughed until there was nothing left in his lungs or his stomach either.

After inhaling deeply a few more times however, he felt to his relief that it became easier to breathe. He braced his hands against the ground trying to ignore the pain that was screaming like a bitch in his shoulder and side and closed his eyes repeating the process.

Finally when he had recovered as well as he could from the fall, as that was the last thing that he remembered, he raised his head and looked around.

At first all he saw was a kaleidoscope of dull oranges, bleak browns and washed out greens. After squinting for a moment though dark shapes began to materialize before him and he hunkered down again. The last thing he wanted to see was more monsters. But after a few moments of silence he looked up again confused, and then he realized what was before him.

He was kneeling at the entrance to a forest. But this sure as hell wasn't the enchanted wood, because all the trees were dead and black. Yet all of them were at least twenty feet tall. Their branches stretched up and out and toward him as if in welcome, some of their roots were also exposed but they were black as well.

He looked down and saw that the source of the mud and wetness was coming from another origin. It was in fact coming from the forest, which was actually a bog. Pools of dark water were scattered between the tree roots. These pools would bubble every so often giving off the appearance that there was a natural oil and natural heating element to them. He didn't want to know what was in them though. The light that he had seen was glowing dimly through the trees like a regular sunset would, but he was sure that this light was not from any sun.

He stared at the massive wooded area. As far as he could tell, there was no other way around it, but he knew that he couldn't stay there forever. There had to be another way.

Pushing himself up onto his knees Dean turned around, wincing when his shoulder and lower back howled in protest. Dismay filled him when he saw the alternative.

He was kneeling at the very edge of a massive cliff. He crawled to the edge of it and peered over the side. A horrid smell rose up to meet him and he reeled back from the edge in alarm. It was utterly dark down there, and the closer he got to the drop off for the second time, the heat became unbearable.

There was no telling what he would find if he went down there. And there was no way that he physically could, given the state of his shoulder and side. That would therefore mean that he had two choices. He could stay there on the edge of the cliff until something about his circumstances changed which wasn't very likely to happen, or he could haul his ass to his feet and go through the forest.

Both prospects sounded insane. But he knew deep in his head that if he were to lie there, he would just become prey for whatever monstrous bastard that happened to wander along.

Of course, if he went into the forest and got lost among the trees, the same thing could happen, but the idea of taking fate into his own hands and facing whatever would come at him on his feet, was slightly more comforting then lying there waiting.

It was this thought that propelled Dean to his feet and had him starting the slow painful process of going into the dark shadows of the trees to find out what lay on the other side.

Ω

It was hot…..far too hot for any human to handle, but Ariadne didn't feel a thing. She just kept walking. The soles of her feet had long since turned black from the soot and ashes on the ground but like everything else that had happened to her, she didn't notice. She had to keep moving….keep moving or succumb and that was not optional.

She was out of No Man's Land at least. It was a place where the screams never died and the blood never dried up. Where the colour red never seemed to lose its lustre and the colour black threatened to overwhelm you.

But it was behind her now, she swore she would never go back. If Hell was to be her home for eternity, then she would make her bed in a place of her choosing, and it would _not _be No Man's Land.

After a while of plodding along, she stopped and looked around. The red of No Man's Land had faded to a dull green and brown and she realized that she had halted at the mouth of a wood. All the trees were dead and the scent of decay was heavy on the air.

Ariadne remembered this place from a long time ago and was loathe to go into it, but she would not turn around. Anything was better then what lay behind.

She glanced down at the cord that was hanging around her waist and fingered the designs on the sheath that hung there. The short blade was about the length of her forearm and the only thing she had to her advantage. When she had awoken it was lying next to her.

Placing her hand securely on its hilt, she picked up the hem of her long white dress, at least it had been white once, and stepped over the first black tree root that was protruding out of the ground before coming under the shadow of the first tree.

Before going any father though, she turned around and looked back. In the distance, she could see the dull red glow of the fires from the barren wasteland she had come from. Every so often a howl from that direction would pierce the air and she winced.

A sudden explosion rocked the ground and she gripped one of the lower tree branches in order to keep her balance. The last thing she wanted to do was take a tumble into the dark pools. She might not come out again. The explosion was just another form of torture that the King of Hell had devised.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her back on the horrific picture of Lucifer's mine fields and walked into the shadows of the trees.

It was surprisingly cooler beneath their branches which was a pleasant relief from the unbearable heat of the outside. The tightness in her chest began to loosen and all of a sudden, she could breathe again. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply forgetting what it had been like to breathe without feeling like she was choking on glass and sulphur.

Now all she had to do was find some shelter and some natural heat. Food wouldn't be a problem. One of the only benefits of this place was that your body no longer needed to eat and sleep. It immortalized you, and immortals didn't need the things that their opposites did.

Even though she had given up eating though, sleep wasn't something that was easy to forget. But sleep here wasn't like the sleep of mortality. Almost every time she closed her eyes, there was some new terror there to haunt her.

There were times when she was lucky though and the only thing that was a result of sleep was a sweet blackness.

She breathed deeply again and realized with relief that the screams of souls off in the distance had faded. The forest was quiet, no birds chirped in the trees and the only sound was that of her soft footfalls on the ground. It was still hot though and she paused every few minutes to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Her muscles were shaking with the stress of the silence.

A slight splash caught her attention, and she whirled, drawing the sword from its sheath in one fluid motion. It turned out to be nothing, just water from another pool dropping steadily into the pool below it but she kept the sword out in front of her.

_Any more frights like that and soon I will qualify for the mental asylum, _she thought.

It was far too quiet. She hated silence, it had been a while since she had heard absolutely nothing and it was unnerving. She was jumping at every little sound.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and she started humming to herself. It was a lullaby her mother had sung to her a long time ago. Gradually she felt her heart rate slow and her breathing begin to even out. Even the tension in her muscles was slowly draining away.

_Hush my child and rest your head_

_Until the night has passed_

_Close your eyes and dream away _

_Because the dark won't last_

_Safe and sound and in my arms_

_T'is where your heart will be_

_For no evils will touch you here_

_This I promise thee_

_So weep no more and dry your tears_

_And soon the sun will shine_

_For dangers will hurt you no more_

_And peace will soon be thine_

As the last of the melody faded away she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she had sung that song. Far too long, she had almost forgotten it.

Even now though, she couldn't help but feel the almost tangible irony between her situation and the lullaby. Everything that it promised wouldn't happen, had happened. And safety? Ha! Tell that to the demons and monsters that she had had to deal with for the last two millennia.

A sound pulled her from her thoughts and she looked around wildly. It was a little in front of her and to her left. She gripped the hilt of her blade tighter in her hands and backed herself up against one of the trees.

Looking behind her quickly, she saw that there was a cleft in the bark, big enough for a human being and without thinking, she deftly manoeuvred herself into it and out of sight, but still making sure that she could see out. And there she sat…..waiting.

After a few minutes, she heard it again, and slowly looked out.

The underbrush almost directly in front of her parted and a man stepped through. She tensed thinking that he was a monster.

But after a few seconds of looking at him more closely, she frowned in confusion.

His clothes were torn and dirty, splattered with mud and blood. His right shoulder was a mass of bloody flesh and torn ligaments. She could see it was because an instrument had been embedded in his skin and had obviously nearly torn through it. One side of his face was deeply bruised and cuts and lacerations covered his arms and outer extremities.

He walked with a slow methodical rhythm that betrayed pain and extreme fatigue. It appeared as if each step took an effort of will, and as he came closer, she could tell that he was breathing heavily.

But even with all the damage showing on him, it wasn't enough to hide the fact that under all the physical abuse, he was very handsome. He lifted his face slightly and she caught a glimpse of beautiful jade green eyes.

She almost caught her breath at this point because it was obvious to her that he was no monster or demon, just a soul that had lost his way on the dark path through hell.

Just like her.

Ariadne sheathed her blade quietly. There wasn't anything to fear from this mortal. But now her curiosity was piqued. What was he doing here?

She watched as he slowly plodded off into the trees ahead of her and after waiting for a minute, she silently emerged from her hiding place and followed him.

Ω

_How long does this ugly ass forest go on for?_ Dean thought. The ground beneath his feet was muddy and slippery because of all the water from the pools, so it made each step precarious. Dean felt at any moment, he might slip and that would be the end of it.

With every step he could feel each muscle straining. He had lost almost all the feeling in his right arm and aside from being able to twitch his fingers slightly, the limb itself was pretty much useless.

He glanced up and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his other hand. God, it was hot. He almost felt like he was in a rainforest that is if rainforests looked like some kind deranged backdrop for _Thriller_. He almost expected to see hands poking out of the ground as the undead clawed their way to the surface.

Great. Now he was thinking about zombies. He paused for a moment to look around. Ever since he had entered the forest, his main thought had been just putting one foot in front of the other, but now he allowed himself to really look around.

He was in a clearing and trees surrounded him in a perfect circle. Under each tree lay a dark pool of water, in perfect alignment.

He looked warily around at the arrangements and realized that he was standing right in the middle of this bizarre sphere. Red flags immediately sprang to attention in his brain. He didn't know why, but he knew right away that he was in danger.

His eyes scanned the area back and forth a million times before he was satisfied that nothing was going to jump out of the trees at him. There wasn't much he could do if something did however, torn up as he was.

Just then, something below him caught his attention. He frowned and slowly lowered into a crouch beside one of the pools.

Lights were flashing across the surface of the dark water, and if he looked carefully enough…..it looked like scenes were forming.

Yeah this sure as hell wasn't any ordinary water. He looked closer and the nearer to the water he moved, the clearer it became. Suddenly he blinked as he realized what he was seeing.

"What the hell?" he whispered hoarsely.

He was looking into Sam's nursery, it was early afternoon at least judging by the light intensity it looked that way.

It was just like he remembered it. Underneath the window still standing was his baby brother's crib with the same blue blanket he had slept in. The pictures were still on the walls, the carpet was still the same. It was as if the house and the room had never been touched by fire.  
>Suddenly a shadow appeared in the doorway of the room, and he tensed. But astonishment quickly followed when he saw that the person who stepped over the threshold was none other than his brother himself. He was smiling as he crossed the floor to the crib and placed his hands on the bars.<br>"I can't believe you and dad never took this death trap down mom," he called to another figure who had just appeared in the doorway.  
>Shock stole the breath from his lungs and for a moment he forgot about the pain when he saw his mother stepped through the doorway. She didn't seem to have aged at all. Her platinum blonde hair fell softly over her shoulders and onto the long grey sweater she was wearing. There were no lines in her face, and her blue eyes sparkled with laughter as she gazed at her youngest son. She looked...happy.<br>He felt his eyes smart as he watched them. His mother walked over and gently put a hand on his brother's shoulder.  
>"I couldn't bear to get rid of it. Especially since your father and I always planned on having more children. It just didn't happen though." Her face darkened for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it came.<br>"Where's dad?" Sam asked.  
>"He went to pick up a few things for dinner tonight, he'll be back soon. He wanted to be home before your brother got here."<br>His boyish face lit up. "Dean's coming home?" He asked and Dean's vision blurred when he heard the level of excitement in the younger man's voice.  
>His mother nodded. "It's a holiday, of course he's coming home. I spoke to him on the phone the other day and he wants to hear all about Stanford, Sam. He can't wait to see you."<br>The grin on Sam's face was stretched from ear to ear. All of a sudden, a door below them slammed and a deep voice called out:  
>"I'm home! Where is everybody?"<br>"We're up here John," his mother called out. She walked back over to the doorway and stuck her head out looking for her husband.  
>A moment later, a third figure appeared in the doorway and Dean caught his breath when he saw his father. John's face was smooth and unlined. There was a slight greying at his temples and stubble on his cheeks, but aside from that he looked almost youthful.<br>He smiled when he saw Sam, then he looked around a slight frown darkening his features.  
>"Where's Dean?" He asked. His wife put her hand on his arm soothingly.<br>"He should be here any minute," she said calmly.  
>Then, to Dean's shock all three of them turned and looked directly at him. Upon seeing him, their faces lit up.<br>"Dean, son, there you are, we've been waiting for you!" And at the sound of his father's voice, so full of love and not addressing him as if he were a soldier, Dean's throat closed up with emotion.  
>A huge grin stretched over Sam's face. "Hey bro, what are you doing out there? Come on in!" His mother smiled invitingly and beckoned to him.<br>All at once Dean began to feel warm. Like a heaviness was seeping into his muscles and turning them to lead. A small part of his mind was saying that something wasn't right, but he wasn't really paying attention.  
>Sam strode over towards him, and how he was doing it, Dean had no clue, and reached out a hand to Dean.<br>This is where all the little red flags should have gone up, but for some reason, Dean's brain wasn't functioning at its normal capacity.  
>Before he even realized what he was doing, he had reached out a hand towards the water thinking to take Sam's hand. The only thought in his mind was, <em>"God, I want to see them again."<em>  
>His fingers had no sooner brushed the surface of the pool when a hand reached out from the depths, seized him by the wrist and the next thing that he knew, he had plunged head first into the water.<p>

Ω

Ariadne shot her head up in alarm when she saw that he had been pulled in. She had stopped to watch him for a while, curious about what he was doing.  
>Too late she had realized that the pool he was gazing into was a one of the <em>Maccah<em> or temptation pools. They showed you what you most wanted to see and made it seem as if your heart's desire was within your grasp, and just as you realized what was happening, it was too late. It sucked you in.  
><em>Oh Theos, what do I do?<em> She thought to herself, and then instinct took over. She pushed her way through the underbrush until she reached the pool he had fallen into. As was to be expected, the water had grown calm, and she couldn't make out any shapes or forms in its depths.  
>There was no other choice then.<br>Before she could talk herself out of it, Ariadne took a deep breath and dove into the pool.

Ω

Things had reached a whole other level of bizarre.  
>As soon as he plunged through the water, Dean started to struggle, albeit pitifully since he was in sorry shape as it was.<br>But then, things got even weirder. Mom Dad and Sam were still there in front of him, but submerged, they began to change.  
>Their bodies began to stretch and flow with the currents of the water, and their clothes changed to rags. They were still looking at him, but their eyes were blood red, and their teeth had become razor sharp and fish like. Dean gasped and reeled back, forgetting for a moment that he was completely submerged.<br>Immediately water rushed into his lungs, but like everything else here, this wasn't what he expected. The water immediately clogged his lungs. It tasted of oil and ashes. He clawed toward the surface but gained no height and it wasn't until he looked down again that he saw that the monsters who were masquerading as his family had seized hold of his ankles and were pulling him down.  
>"Isn't this what you wanted?" Sam called up to him. Except this wasn't the voice of Sam. It was harsh and grated on his ears, Dean shook his head vigorously, panicking. He couldn't breathe and the monsters was pulling him down to god knows where.<br>But before could make up his mind on what to do, whether to keep fighting or to give up and let go, something rocked the water to his left.  
>Dean's eyes widened when he saw a white figure shoot past him. It swung its arm and he watched in disbelief when an arc of gold in its hand passed through the three monsters causing them to be propelled backward, cursing.<br>In an instant, he was loose and kicking feebly toward the surface. He knew if he didn't get air into his lungs soon, then there wouldn't have been a point to getting free.  
>He risked a glance down and saw that the white figure was still battling the monsters. The gold arc flashed one more time and all of a sudden, the water creatures had vanished.<br>The white figure looked up and he caught sight of a pair of deep brown eyes. Dean turned his head towards the surface not having time for any other thoughts. He just needed to breathe.  
>Then he felt something pulling upward on his hand and he saw the white form ahead of him. It had grasped ahold of his left arm and was tugging him toward the surface. Its grip was impossibly strong and even if he wanted to pull away, he couldn't have. It was bringing him toward the surface faster than he would have been able to.<br>The surface of the pool exploded and Dean found himself propelled up and out of the water and landing on the ground flat on his back. The force knocked the wind out of him and he lay there for a few minutes just trying to get some air into his lungs before he was able to wonder how the hell he had gotten out. That was when he remembered the figure in white and lifted his head to look around.  
>He was completely alone.<br>What the hell?  
>All he had been able to garner from it was that it had a pair of brown eyes. They had definitely been a woman's though. No man would have eyes that large nor a form that slender.<br>Dean lay there for a few more minutes trying to catch his breath and appreciating just how nice it was to breathe air again.

To his surprise, he began to dry almost instantaneously, so it took him a moment to realize that the water on his face was not from the pool but from his own eyes.

It was completely irrational to want to be back in the water but a small part of him did, if only to see his family one more time. His head knew that these were monsters that had simply taken the form of his family. God, he knew it, but it was a cruel bastard that took the desires of a man's heart and used them against him, especially if those desires included people he loved.

He harshly wiped his face with his fist and got to his feet, still shaking, whether from the cold of the pool or repressed emotions he didn't know….and he didn't want to know. All Dean knew was that he wanted to be away from the pool and everything that it represented before he lost his mind in the land of "I Wish."

But if Winchester luck was any indication…..he had lost it there a long time ago.

Ω

Ariadne watched as the young man somehow got to his feet and staggered off through the trees before quietly emerging from the bushes and following him.

She hadn't missed the sheen of tears on his face and wondered at the significance. When she had been in the pool fighting off the monsters, she hadn't seen anything but their true natures.

But then again, it hadn't her they were trying to seduce. After all the _Maccah_ pools were designed to tempt you with your greatest desires.

Judging by his expression, he had been shown something that he had craved wholeheartedly, because the grief on his face after she had dragged him out was almost palpable.

Strapping the sword back to her waist, she followed him silently through the trees. His pace was slower than it was before but that was understandable. She had fallen prey to the same thing the first time she had come here.

She glanced sideways at the sky, it had grown grey and the burnt orange tinge to the clouds had become a muddy brown. Night was falling fast over Hell, and she didn't want to be out in the open when that happened. Who knew what was lurking in the dark?

Ω

Dean sat huddled in the small cave he had found. After walking for hours and falling into pools and out of the sky, he needed to sit down. So when he had spotted this rock face with a slight overhang under which he could sit and hide, he almost wanted to dance from relief. Almost.

There would be no more dancing for him though.

So there he sat, legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, head buried in his knees. Dean was sure that the picture he created was an absolutely pathetic one, but who the hell cared?

He closed his eyes trying to shut out the images of his Mom Dad and Sam standing in that room, laughing and smiling like they had never done before, like their whole family hadn't been ripped apart by tragedy.

God, what would it have been like? Having Mom alive would have been the biggest thing and not hunting would have been the other.

But the idea of not hunting was almost absurd. It was all Dean knew, it had defined his entire existence. If he wasn't a hunter then who the hell was he?

_I'm nobody, _he thought miserably.

He was wet, he was torn up, dead and in Hell. Could it get any worse?

The answer was yes.

_Welcome to Hell, Dean Winchester, _he thought.

Welcome home.

Ω


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: We've Been Expecting You.

_"__Even from far away, I could see people being chased by hellhounds,_

_burned at the stake or forced to run naked through cactus patches." – Rick Riordan_

The darkness of Hell was something that Ariadne had never become used to, even after two thousand years of it, she still felt a chill rise on her skin every time the black toxic clouds filled the air and blotted out whatever light however dim that had filled the sky.

She hunkered down beneath the bushes and peered between the leaves at the outcropping of rock about twenty feet away from her. Even though the illumination was terrible, she could still make out the shape of the young man tucked up between the cleft of stone.

She had been watching him for almost an hour, and aside from the slight shifting of his feet, the twitch of his fingers or the telltale rise and fall of his shoulders that indicated breath, he had not moved a fraction of an inch.

Ariadne lowered herself more closely to the ground and untied the silken cord from her waist, but still gripping the blade between both hands. She knew she would never lose it, but somehow holding it in her hands, feeling the cool gold glyphs on the sheath and running her palm over the hilt conveyed a sense of attachment and normality that had been one of the few things that had kept her sane while serving her sentence.

She curled up with her back to the nearest tree. The shrubbery was so high that it offered a layer of protection from overhead eyes but it also afforded her the privilege of observation. And right now, that was really the only thing she could do.

When he had stopped and hid himself beneath the outcropping of rock, Ariadne was relieved, she had been worried that he would drop soon from his injuries and then she would be forced to reveal herself. She didn't know why that that was such a scary thing. She was sure that he had managed to catch sight of her in the pool, and that terrified her to such an extent that she had used her powers without even realizing it and disappeared as soon as she had dragged him out.

But why had she dragged him out in the first place?

Ariadne didn't really know. She had reasoned that leaving him down there might have been more merciful then whatever he might find if he left the wood.

Either way he would be tortured. It was simply a question of which would more extreme and painful. But Ariadne hadn't thought about the different types of agony.

All she had seen was an innocent in danger and she had acted. Even after two thousand years, habits never died. Her uncle would have been proud of her.

She grimaced and wiped the thought from her mind. _We decided a long time ago that the past should stay in the past, so why are you thinking of it now?_ She asked herself.

Taking a deep breath, she looked out from the between the leaves at the object of her curiosity. He still hadn't moved but she had noticed that his wounds looked even more inflamed and reddened then before and she winced in sympathy.

It really wasn't like her to watch someone in pain, and not do anything, but after two thousand years of being tortured by men and demons, Ariadne wasn't the most trusting soul. She decided that until he proved himself trustworthy in some way, then and only then would she venture out of the shadows. But for now, she was content to watch.

She didn't know it, but there was something about him that seemed remarkably innocent to her. Just the lost look on his face and the pain that was thinly veiled in his jade green eyes.

There was a difference to this mortal then any of the others she had seen, and though she didn't know what it was…..she very much wanted to find out.

Ω

The wind whistled through the forest right outside of his hiding spot, casting some of its force into the rock's indentation.

Dean was boiling. He should've expected this, it was hell after all, but still, he didn't move. It was exhausting even trying to lift his head so he just stopped doing it. The air though was hot and stuffy and he knew he needed to breathe….really breathe, sometime soon.

Hesitantly he lifted his head and perched his chin between his knees. He hadn't realized how dark it had gotten and with a great effort he swallowed the panic that was rising in his throat.

He could barely make out the silhouettes of the trees and bushes that were growing across the small space about twenty feet away. In the increasing blackness, they looked unearthly, like alien limbs reaching out toward him.

Dean flinched and hid his face again. He didn't look up any more but decided to be content with the darkness that surrounded his hiding space. For now all he had to do was breathe and try and block out the darkness both outside and the kind that was crowding in on his own mind, and for now that was physically and mentally enough.

He could still see their faces. Mom…Dad….Sammy…

He flinched and shook his head. "Get a grip Winchester," he muttered to himself. "You made your bed, gotta lie in it."

Yeah, that was a _real_ morale booster.

Soon, he began to feel his eyelids get heavy. He thought he would be incapable of sleep at this point, beat up and terrified as he was. But it was like his body, the physical part of him that strictly handled the muscles, just said: "Yeah I don't care where you are, its time for you to lie down now."

Really having no other choice, Dean listened and lay down, his head resting on one arm and his other limb covering his face. He pulled his legs in tighter to his chest so he was in a fetal position and clenched his eyes shut.

Ω

It was sometime later that a hideous sound sent Dean shooting up from his makeshift bed. He looked around wildly but it was too dark to see anything. His breath began coming heavily as his imagination started forming all kinds of abstract possibilities.

"Shut up Winchester! It's probably just the wind!" he muttered to himself while still trembling.

_Yeah right, because the wind sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard? _His mind replied. Ever so slowly Dean got to his feet.

He wasn't sure what to do, whether try and find another place to hide or remain there and hope for the best. His fight or flight responses were so conflicted and screaming at him that he literally felt paralyzed during the mental tug of war. His feet refused to move and his heart rate spiked.

_Calm down…..calm down…..calm down….._ God it was like a broken record was playing in his head.

At that exact moment, it sounded again and Dean dropped into a crouch, hands over his ears, as a sharp pain arced through his senses. It felt as if the sound itself was a high pitched hypodermic needle that was piercing the sensitive inner area of his ear traveling up and ricocheting around in his skull. It was like no sound he had ever heard before and every time he tried to get up, it would sound again sending him back to his knees.

All of a sudden, the overhang of rock above him emitted a sharp tearing noise as if the outcropping was made of metal and the roof was being torn off. A few seconds later, his personal ceiling had been removed and Dean found himself looking up at a monster three times his size.

It was difficult to see all of it in the gathering dark, but he was able to make out an enormous pair of black wings furled out behind it.

It was then that the mist covering the light of the moon passed by, uncovering her, and Dean saw exactly what he was up against.

He was staring up into the face of a giant at least eight feet tall. It wasn't humanoid it only looked that way at first because it had reared up onto its hind legs. A massive concussion shook the ground as the creature landed back onto its front feet, it opened its mouth again and roared, and when it did so, it sounded as if two noises were being emitted, the high pitched screeching being one and a deep throaty roar that imitated the bellow of a lion but augmented many times more. It had the head of a dragon, but feet of a giant cat, and scales covered its entire body. Its tail whipped around and suddenly he saw a scorpion stinger protruding from its other end. It was all black and sickly greys except for its head which was a dark green.

Dean found himself only a few feet from its gaping maw, and an acrid stench floated toward him that would have knocked him over had he already not been in a crouch.

"Dude, would it kill you to use mouthwash?" he asked, for some reason having no other ability then to make smart remarks. He doubted he could even scream if he wanted to.

In answer to his question, the monster roared again which forced Dean to a kneeling position head pressed down against his thighs. Tears of pain came to his eyes as the high pitched squealing occurred again. He honestly felt as if the sound would shatter his ear drums. When the sound faded again he looked up.

The monster had made no move to come toward him, and he wondered why for a moment. It flapped its wings, and suddenly the high pitched sound occurred again, and Dean was like before, trapped in a fetal position trying to block it out.

It didn't have to do anything, all it had to do was flap its wings, the sound would emit, and Dean was completely at its mercy.

_The bastard! _He barely had the coherency to think. _What does it want? _

Dumb question.

Suddenly the monster folded its wings and raised its head, it looked like it had caught the scent of something. It whipped its head around and toward the trees behind it.

Dean then decided that it was now or never and so he made a leap for one of the bushes that was closest to him. Or rather he tried, it was more like a wounded gazelle making one last ditch effort to get away from the lion.

Unfortunately it would seem like this lion had eyes in the back of its head, because just as Dean launched himself toward the shrubs, it raised on of its heavy paws and slapped the ground in front of him. There was a sound like a small earthquake and the force of it sent Dean sprawling backwards to his original position again knocking the breath out of him, which was starting to get extremely irritating.

Dean suddenly looked up to see a white shape bound from the underbrush with a familiar golden arc in its hands. It slashed it across the back of the monster's legs, and the creature gave a howl of rage and pain.

It whirled to face this new threat, and Dean finally got a glimpse of his saviour. It was a woman, he could finally put a gender to this being. But that was really all he could make out, she was whirling the gold around her so fast he almost couldn't follow it. And while the monster was quick, she was easily its equal.

Dean watched in astonishment as she traded blow for blow with the beast expertly moving and ducking under his swings. He glanced down at his leg and let out a moan of agony when he saw blood and torn flesh on it. Not again.

He looked up again just in time to see the young woman pause to glance at him. From this distance he couldn't really see what she looked like but her brown eyes appeared almost concerned….

Suddenly the beast took advantage of her momentary distraction to lash out with one of his claws and backhanded her across the clearing into one of the trees. She hit the trunk looking dazed and slumped down to the ground.

Dean's breath caught in his throat in horror. The monster advanced on the woman and Dean didn't even think. He seized a rock the size of a baseball that was lying near him and using his left hand, hurled it with all his strength at its head.

He was astonished when the rock smacked against the monster's skull with a satisfying crack. Dean allowed a tiny smirk to cross his face.

"Hey dirt bag!" he called, putting all the smart ass he still had left into his voice. The monster turned and glared at him, its eyes gleaming venomously. He knew he had its attention.

"Yeah, that's right, you heard me. You obviously came for me not her. You make a habit of beating up women?"

The monster growled threateningly, and stalked toward Dean becoming slowly scarier as it drew nearer.

_Great, now what Winchester? The only thing you succeeded in doing is pissing it off!_

Unfortunately that was the last thought he had time for because a second later, the monster whipped its scorpion stinger tail around and stuck Dean in the side.

This venom seriously burned. Dean cried out in agony, but that was all he could do, as he realized that the venom must have had some kind of paralyzing agent to it, because he couldn't move a damn muscle.

The next thing that he knew, the creature was standing over him. It lifted one of its massive claws and wrapped its talons around Dean's waist. Dean found his sense of vertigo spiked as he was lifted into the air.

He wanted to see if the girl was alright, but the monster seemed to have no intention of turning around. Instead it looked up at the yellow moon that was rising rapidly, shimmering in waves of heat and let out a roar that shook the tree tops.

Then, it launched itself into the air, tucking up its legs close to its chest, like a plane putting up its landing gears. The flapping of its wings as they rose into the sky began emitting the high pitched screeching sound again and this time Dean couldn't cover his ears.

He knew he wouldn't be able to withstand hearing that sound for long. Already it felt as if his brain was being tasered.

Sure enough, a few seconds later as the ringing in his ears increased, his vision faded to grey, and then finally black.

Ω

Back on the ground, Ariadne watched the monster rising rapidly into the sky, illuminated by the moon and cursed. She watched it until it was out of sight and noted its direction.

It was then that she realized with horror that it was heading back to No Man's Land. She slumped back against the tree and wiped the blood from her lip. There was no need to tend to herself though, her wounds were already healing.

She sighed. Now what?

When she had seen the creature land, she knew right away that this was an upper level monster, obviously controlled by Lucifer. And if this monster was compelled by the hellish royalty, then that meant that it had been receiving very specific orders, because it seemed to know exactly where the young man was.

She had known that she didn't stand a lot of a chance against this beast, but that didn't matter, she had never been much of a watch from the side lines type of person anyway. But if the young man hadn't called out to distract the monster, something far worse might have happened.

Ariadne paused, frowning. In fact he could very well have used the time while the beast was preoccupied with her to get away…and yet he hadn't.

Why?

It was a question she wanted an answer to. But to accomplish that…..she would have to go back to No Man's Land.

She felt her breath catch as she remembered that place. Did she dare return? What if Lucifer found her again?

_You knew that there was always the chance that he might, _she reminded herself. _As long as you are trapped here, you will never be completely free of him. And you know that the odds are against you. So why are you sitting here wondering?_

She squared herself. It was true, the stakes had never been in her favor. And going back to No Man's Land made her want to crawl into a hole and hide for the next few centuries. It was after all the place of her nightmares…..

But she also knew that if she stayed here, if she didn't follow the monster, if she didn't watch over this mortal, she would regret it.

Why? Because the look in his eyes was all too familiar. It was the very same expression she had born when she signed her soul away two millennia ago. And in all that time of being here, she had never seen a soul who carried the same hollow but sure look around.

It was a look that said: _I'm afraid to be here, but I'm also glad I am, because it means that someone else isn't._

It was then that she knew there would be no more running and hiding for her. It was time to do something for someone other than herself.

It was time to go back to being the person she was before she had died. Ariadne took a deep breath and got to her feet, wiped the monster blood from her blade on the ground and sheathed the weapon.

It was time to become a Nephilim again.

She took another deep breath and squared her shoulders one more time. Then she turned and headed south, moving quickly after the monster, following it to No Man's Land.

Ω

Within a few hours, the winged demon had appeared on the horizon over the red grey and black barren expanse of earth that Ariadne had fondly entitled No Man's Land.

It was aptly named for no men traversed its surface. The only mortals that could be seen and heard were strapped to the racks and all of them were in various stages of torment. So the only sound besides the whirring of machinery and gears shifting that operated the instruments of torture were the screams, howls and shrieks of souls in agony.

Dean however was still unconscious. His body was hanging limply from the claws of the monster. His wounds were still bleeding and blood dripped down his left arm, but the creature didn't notice. Its orders had been simple: Retrieve Dean Winchester and bring him to Alastair.

Even now as the beast's presence darkened the red sky, a figure on the ground near one of the racks looked up at it and smiled.

Alastair's smile became a leering grin which grew even wider as his pet got closer bearing his new toy in its talons.

The monster spread its wings to slow its landing and gently deposited Dean Winchester onto the ground at the head demons feet.

Casually, as if he were examining a specimen he wanted to experiment on, Alastair approached and rolled Dean over with his foot. His wounds were still bleeding and the mass of torn and bloodied flesh that was his right shoulder caused the chief demon to smile.

They were going to have a lot of fun with one. He snapped his fingers and suddenly, Dean's eyes flew open and he shot up to a sitting position, looking around wildly for a fight. All he saw was a barren wasteland of blood reds, sickly greys and consuming blacks. Then slowly, dreading what he would see, Dean looked up and locked eyes with Alastair.

He said nothing but his expression was clear and extreme dismay crossed his face. Alastair grinned again showing his long white teeth. Normally, the head demon, whenever he made trips to earth, he took the form of a human so he could walk among them and carry out his orders. But hell was home, and here he could take the form of any creature he wanted, or create his own if he so chose.

Today, he was dressed in a pinstripe suit complete with cummerbund and lapel. He was leaning slightly on a black cane, the kind that was seen used by upper-class men in older black and white movies. Although Dean knew that it was more of a status symbol than anything else.

His fingers were adorned with bone white rings that had black and red gemstones embedded in the faces, and as Dean looked slowly, almost mechanically up into his face, he saw that the head demon's eyes were as white as his jewelry.

His face had the appearance of medieval prisoners who had been forced to labour in the dungeons for years never the seeing the light of the sun and slowly going mad in the dark. His skin was pale, almost translucent, which was very much unexpected given the fact that it was so hot.

Alastair's lips parted and a hissing laugh emitted from between them. Dean couldn't help himself and flinched.

"One hundred years," he murmured slowly circling Dean. "I had to wait an entire century before I could have the…..unique pleasure of meeting John Winchester's brat."

At the sound of his voice, a hissing purr, Dean suddenly felt himself become seething with rage.

"You know, I could say the same thing about you, except I have no idea who the hell you are, so it's obviously not a privilege," he spat. The pain in his right shoulder and side were returning and he had to force the words out from between tight lips.

Alastair wasn't the kind of demon who was easily angered though. After all he was hundreds of years old and had a ridiculous amount of practise at being patient and keeping his tempter in check.

Dean Winchester, while being a special type of…..resident to the precious hot spring that they had going down there would be no different than any other resident. He was just like them, and he would break just like them.

It was only a matter of time. He slowly walked around Dean watching him carefully. He was a definite nuisance he would give him that much. After all this was the man who obliterated Azazel, the only demon powerful enough to obtain a form more deadly than Alastair. He was the only yellow eyed demon to have existed. And his destruction had been a great loss to hell. Dean would have to pay for that. Already Alastair was devising just what fun he would have with the elder Winchester.

He spoke in a harsh guttural language and the monstrous carrier pigeon responsible for transporting Dean launched itself into the air and away from them.

"You know I probably would've gotten to you eventually. No need to send an armed escort and roll out the red carpet for me," Dean muttered as he slowly got to his feet. His ears were still ringing from the sound of the monster's wings which was making him slightly dizzy. So from his perspective it appeared for a second that there were two Alastair's grinning at him.

"Don't flatter yourself Dean, you're no different than any resident here. But you are one of the first who was just idiotic enough to get himself lost to warrant sending a rescue team."

"Was that what it was?" Dean asked as he steadied himself, "Because it sure as hell seemed like that bastard was the hunting dog, and I was rabbit."

"That's an interesting choice of words," Alastair mused. He had turned away from Dean and was looking with satisfaction in the direction of the racks. "But quite appropriate, now that I think of it."

He turned back to the older Winchester and strode toward him. Before Dean could raise a hand to defend himself, Alastair had clamped a hand on his shoulder and all his muscles seized up.

Alastair leaned close to Dean's ear as if he were about to confide something very important to him.

"I can tell that you are going to so much fun to have around Dean Winchester, it's too bad Azazel didn't pick you to lead his armies instead of your brat of a brother. You would have made a much more…..interesting choice."

Dean tried to answer, to spit some insult back at the son of a bitch, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he found that his vocal chords had stopped working too. Alastair's touch was dangerous and even when he took his hand away, Dean still felt as if the head demon had reached into his mind, because it seemed as if he had no more control over his motor skills.

So when Alastair started to walk away, Dean had the sudden insane urge to follow him. His mind was rebelling, but it was as if the head demon had an invisible leash made of Tasers that were attached to each muscle and the farther Alastair walked away from him, each muscle felt like it was being electrocuted, causing Dean to shudder every few seconds.

Finally Alastair looked back and noticed that Dean wasn't following him.

"Well come on then, we don't have all day," he said and snapped his fingers. Instantly Dean began to walk toward him. He had no idea how he was doing it. He didn't like it, he didn't want to. But it was like he had no choice, his muscles weren't listening to him.

He knew Alastair had done something to him, but at that moment, he was too tired and sore to fight. It would've been useless anyway. Where was he going to go even if he did succeed in getting away from Alastair? It was Hell…..

The head demon had stopped and waited until Dean fell into step alongside him and then he began walking again.

He said nothing for a long while for which Dean was eternally grateful. All he could really focus on at that point was the increasing pain in his limbs and how to breathe through it without it showing on his face. In order to take his mind off the searing agony he looked around.

They were walking across the barren wasteland toward a collection of ash grey hills in the distance. As they drew nearer the screams and shrieks of the souls started up again, causing Dean to grimace.

"Where are we going?" he asked harshly willing his muscles to stop moving, but finding that he couldn't.

"I thought you might like a tour of the place," Alastair replied cheerily. "Really?" Dean replied sarcastically, "Because seeing where you bastards live has always been high on my priority list."

Alastair laughed, but said no more.

They were at the base of the hill now and they started walking up it at a slow methodical pace. Dean glanced at Alastair, but the expression on the head demon's face was calm, almost serene, but with each step he took smugness seemed to radiate from his pores. It was almost as if he were trying to psyche himself up for something by keeping Dean in suspense.

When they finally reached the top of the hill, Dean's breath caught in his throat in horror.

The hill that they were standing on was tall. In fact when Dean looked out over the valley, actually it was more like a ravine, he realized that the height of this hill or small mountain, whatever you wanted to call it had blocked him from seeing the horror that lay below him.

As far as the eye could see, there were ash grey hills in every direction. Lying in between these hills were miles upon miles of wooden and metal structures. Some were riddled with spikes and there were others looked like they were painted red, but when Dean looked closer, he realized that it was simply dried blood, so much of it, that it had stained the wood red in some places. He suddenly felt nauseous.

The screams going up from this place had caused Dean's mouth to dry out and his heart to begin hammering in his chest.

"What….what is this?" he stammered. Alastair, who was beside him, folded his hands on top of his cane and viewed the place with a cruel satisfaction.

"Welcome to Gehenna. Also known as the place of torment. The Greeks referred to it as the fields of punishment, but I prefer not to be narrow minded. Punishment is after all for those who have done wrong, but torment? Torment is for everybody."

"You bastard," Dean was almost shaking with rage.

Alastair made a _tsk_ sound with his teeth. "Now, now don't get excited yet, there is plenty more for you to see. Follow me."

He began to descend the hill and Dean, while his brain was screaming at him to dig in his heels and fight, found he was absolutely helpless against the head demon's power. He had never felt as weak before as he started to follow after this monster, and he hated himself for it.

Alastair led the way down in the ravine. It was more of a climb then a walk, and Dean nearly fell more times than he wanted to remember.

The only thing that stopped him from stumbling was the fact that spikes were growing out of the ground. He could tell that they were plants, but they were of a species that he had never seen before. Each one was about a foot high and sharp enough to put an eye out. He knew that if he landed on them, it would be lights out.

When they finally reached the bottom of the hill, Dean felt as if he had just run a marathon as he was shaking from exhaustion. Sweat poured off him and he was struggling to breathe, but Alastair didn't seem to notice, and because he was controlling Dean's muscles it wasn't like the elder Winchester could stop to take a break.

He continued walking and Dean was forced to follow. To his dismay, the head demon chose to walk right by the racks so Dean found himself metres from the souls being tortured there. And then Alastair really rubbed salt in the wounds by ensuring that Dean couldn't close his eyes from the scene as he still had dominance over Dean's muscular functioning. So he was forced to look on the faces and into the eyes of each soul and experience part of what they were experiencing.

Every time the pikes were lowered, a spray of red blood filled the sky and blotted out part of the light. The screams of the souls would fade to a gurgle and Dean would have to work ridiculously hard to keep whatever was left in his stomach from coming up.

By the time, they had reached the end of the mile long rack, he felt as torn up as the souls being tortured. His face and body were showered in the sprays of blood but this was quickly being washed away by the wetness of water coming from his eyes.

Alastair didn't seem to notice. Dean took a few deep breaths trying to regain his composure as it would not do to have the head demon see his tears.

Within a few minutes his breathing had steadied again and he felt somewhat calmer. Finally, when they had reached the base of the other hill which separated this ravine from the next, Alastair stopped and turned around to face him.

He glanced at the fading light in the sky and frowned, disappointed that his fun would have to be brought to an end for the day.

"Well, Dean that will have to be all for today, but don't worry, I will see you tomorrow." He cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a long shrill whistle.

Within seconds, the ground shook with massive vibrations. Dean turned around and saw an enormous hell hound bounding toward them. The ground shook and he had to part his legs to keep his balance. Alastair reached out and tapped his shoulder one more time and suddenly Dean had control of himself again. He swayed and almost toppled over. He felt weak, like all the substance had been sucked from his bones and sprinkled along the road next to the racks.

The hellhound skidded to a stop in front of Alastair and growled. Dean took a minute to observe the creature, almost thankful that he had something else to focus on rather than the torture.

On earth, hell hounds carried the souls of people who had made deals at a crossroads to hell. They were exceptionally fast and also invisible as they couldn't take on human hosts and were never supposed to remain on earth for very long.

But down here, Dean supposed they took on their natural shapes. These hellhounds looked like the demented versions of werewolves. This one in particular was jet black but his fur was shot through with dark red undertones that looked suspiciously like human blood. It pulled back its lips from its teeth and Dean caught sight of its razor sharp canines, dripping with blood and saliva. Its claws tore up the ground as it walked and the hair on the back of its neck was standing on end.

Dean didn't even have the nerve to come up with a smart ass comment. He glanced back at Alastair but the head demons face was expressionless.

He stepped forward and all of a sudden Dean felt limp again. He touched his index finger to the centre of Dean's forehead, and the elder Winchester felt a fuzzy sound enter his head, almost as of his brain had become a television set that was getting a bad signal and the picture was distorted.

His vision began to stretch making him feel increasingly dizzy and then suddenly and all at once, he lost all feeling in his muscles and collapsed.

Alastair looked at the mortal lying at his feet with distaste, much like he had a few hours earlier. He glanced back up at the hellhound who was clearly waiting for orders.

"Take him to his cell," he instructed it, "and see to it that he is properly subdued."

The hound lowered its head and wrapped its teeth around Dean's body, then it moved to leave, but Alastair raised a hand, stopping it.

"And no snacking on the prisoner." The dogs ears seemed to droop, but it growled in response and rushed away over the top of the hill.

The chief demon smiled and rubbed his hands together as if warming them. He was going to have more fun with Dean then he had had in a long time. Tomorrow the entertainment would begin.

Ω

Slowly…..gingerly, as if she were treading on eggshells, Ariadne approached No Man's Land. The barren wasteland was unchanged, it still exhibited the geographical characteristics of a soul in torment. It literally looked as if the land had been stripped of its proverbial skin and underneath lay the torn muscles and ligaments of plants and bones scattered across its surface.

She gave a soft shudder, but didn't hesitate. As soon as she stepped onto the ashy soil of Gehenna, she closed her eyes and prayed that it would work.

When she opened her eyes and looked down again, her hands had become grey and smoky, almost as if she were looking at her limbs through a heavy mist. Her whole form had turned cloudy so she was almost like a vapour moving across the ground.

She smiled in satisfaction. It had worked, she was now invisible to all those around her, which would prove useful. She gripped the hilt of her sword in one hand and began moving quickly across the plain.

Ariadne knew she wouldn't be able to maintain it for long, so it was crucial that she find the mortal fast.

Hurrying up one of the hills, she came within sight of the fields of torment and instantly doubled up in pain. It was no use, Lucifer's curse would render her incapacitated if she went anywhere near there.

There had to be another way around. She pressed her back against a large lone rock standing on the hillside and closed her eyes readying herself to go back into a place she had sworn she would never go into again.

For the next few hours, she continued this pattern, hurrying up and down hills, avoiding the racks and dodging demon and hellhounds.

Finally, as the sky darkened to its ashy grey which indicated night, Ariadne was starting to despair. What if they had taken him to another part of Hell? She would never find him then.

She decided that she would traverse one last hill and if she didn't find him in the opposite valley, then she would return to the forest, and live out eternity in one of the caves.

It was a truly nauseating thought, and she was so busy thinking it that when she came to the crest of the last hill, she almost missed him.

Ariadne squinted into the distance and almost gasped when she saw the object of her pursuit.

Far off down the hill, there were two corresponding outcroppings of earth. In between them there was a cleft about twenty feet wide. In the centre of this cleft was a patch of ground. Rimming that patch of ground was a low wall made of human and monster bone. Finally in the centre of that bizarre holding cell was a mortal with his head bowed. There was a red jagged bleeding hole in his shoulder, a gash on his leg and his right side was bleeding from having been stung so many times.

Ariadne felt her shoulders drop in relief.

She had found him.

But what would happen now?

Suddenly something caught her eye. On the plain about a kilometre from his holding cell, there was a large forest of black burnt out trees. They were thick enough that no one would see her from within them and they provided easy cover and places for her to hide.

Ariadne grimaced. She hated hiding. But she would do what she had to.

The mortal was different, he wasn't supposed to be here, and she suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to personally see to it, that he not become like the others here.

And to do that, she would do what she always did.

Wait and watch.

And then when the time was right, she would act. Because the Nephilim inside of her was tired of running and hiding.

It was ready to fight.

Ω

**I apologize that this isn't a new update. I was looking this chapter over and found some errors that were driving me nuts so I had to take it down and repost it. While the response to the first chapter has been good, I'm still very anxious to see what the rest of you think. This is going to a story that is a little bit darker then anything I have written before, and so I am exceedingly curious to hear all of your thoughts on it, especially chapter 2. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed to far **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Dean's First Day

_"__Many people believe they know true darkness, but until it has been experienced, it cannot be imagined." –Joseph R Lallo_

Dean's muscles were aching. It felt as if someone had literally reached inside of his body, removed each one with a razor sharp pair of tweezers, twisted them into pretzels, put them back in and then told him to run an obstacle course.

Yeah.

He couldn't move and he damn well wasn't going to try. At least his shoulder and side had stopped bleeding though.

When he had woken up after whatever kind of coma Alastair had put him in, Dean had found himself chained to a metal stake, that stung like hell whenever he touched it and surrounded by a fence of human and monster bones.

Dean wasn't a guy to get nauseated easily, but whatever badass nature he had possessed in life had disappeared somewhere.

_"__That's what happens in Hell, hour by hour, day by day, even if it takes centuries…..Hell will burn away your humanity."_

He closed his eyes as Ruby's words came back to him. He didn't need reminding. And the last thing that he needed or wanted to do was reminisce. But that seemed like the only thing he _could _do because the pain was so intense.

Dean opened his eyes again and checked out his surroundings. Outside of the white picket fence of bones, there was a flat plain. About a kilometer off the ash grey hills obstructed any kind of view so he couldn't see much further than that. And off to his right there was a dense forest of burnt out trees that looked at least a mile wide and the trees were so packed together that he couldn't see through and he didn't try. The soil was red, obviously what other colour could it be? And it wasn't entirely dry in places. Every so often he would put his hand down and the soil would give way leaving a wet imprint in the ground and a small red pool of water appeared in his hands.

Again, didn't need a doctorate to understand what that was. For a moment, Dean looked at his hand observing the droplets of red moisture that slid across his palm. It was crimson and glistening, sparkling in the strange light of hell, creating an old flashing sensation almost like pictures as he turned his hand in the light.  
>Dean hadn't forgotten falling into the pools and what his curiosity had earned him in that situation, but certainly looking at liquid in the palm of your hand couldn't torment you as that pool could.<br>He learned within a few seconds just how wrong he was.  
>As Dean looked closer it almost seemed as if the liquid began to solidify to ice and a scene appeared flashing in it.<br>Unlike the pools, the scene that appeared before his eyes was at least somewhat familiar. It began with a deep red void, and as Dean looked closer he saw wooden structures appearing in the midst of the redness, and he realized that he was looking at the racks that he had seen earlier that day, and oddest and painful of all was the fact that the screams seemed to be emanating from the pool in the palms of his hands.  
>And then he blinked, all of a sudden, a spray of red obliterated the scene in his hands. A few seconds later it cleared and he realized with shock and horror, that instead of the soul strapped to the rack that had been there before, Dean himself was tied to those horrible wooden structures being subjected to the same torments, he heard his own screams and saw his own limbs being torn off, felt the blood drain from his veins and experienced the loss of feeling in his muscles and the dimming of his eyes.<br>It was all so vivid, that Dean couldn't help but feel as if eye was experiencing it all at once, and the longer he looked into his hands the clearer it became and the more acute the pain.  
>All of a sudden his nerve broke and he flung the pool away from his hands, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and pulled his knees up to his chest burying his head in them so he was in an upright fetal position.<br>Ruby had been right, even now the horror of what was about to happen was slowly coming upon him and if part of his humanity would be drained away on those racks, he shuddered to think of what would happen if he had to endure that for day after day, what his humanity would turn into.  
>He felt his breath begin to come in gasps and he had to physically stop himself from having a panic attack. Sam had always been the one to calm him down from those.<br>Sam.  
>God, it was like the hellhounds were tearing into him all over again. What was his little brother doing? Was he living his life? Was he still hunting? Was he alright?<br>That last question plagued Dean the most. His entire life had been spent wrapped up in taking care of his baby brother, and now after having made the ultimate sacrifice, he had ironically caused the opposite to happen. His being in Hell, meant that he could no longer ensure the wellbeing of Sam. In saving him he had also abandoned him.  
>Dean knew if he kept on thinking like, he would drive himself insane, not that to some degree he wasn't losing his mind already.<br>"Get ahold of yourself Winchester," he muttered to himself into his upright knees. Thinking too much was dangerous, especially here.  
>But the only way to stop thinking was to try and sleep but Dean was hesitant to do even that because he was afraid that he would dream. And dreams here certainly wouldn't be like the ones up top.<br>Dean decided then that he had better chance it, after all, what did he have to lose?

Then he decided he better not answer that question, not only because he had already lost everything he could think of, but also because he had a horrible feeling that in terms of hell, he hadn't begun to lose anything at all. And if that was true, just what more could he give up?

Ω

Ariadne peered out from behind one of the blackened and burned out trees at the mortal about one hundred yards away. She had been watching him for the last few hours as she had done in the forest.  
>She was also debating within herself whether to come out and show herself to him. While she would very much like to, she was hesitant simply for the reason of what good would it do?<br>Whether he knew of her presence or not, he would still be trapped, he would still be taken to the racks and tortured under the careful watch of that bastard Alastair. There was after all nothing she could do about that and she wanted to curse her helplessness.  
>But it wouldn't do to think like that. It would be much better to put such things out of her mind or she would spend the next few hours weeping about the injustice of it all. And Ariadne had learned long ago that to shed tears here was a grave error.<br>So instead she took a deep breath and turned away from him to look at the sky. The dark was rapidly approaching, and for any soul newly arrived in Hell the night of Gehenna would cause any to turn into a raving lunatic in its duration and as soon as the blood red rays colored the skies again, the soul they had been the previous day would be gone.  
>Ariadne felt an urgency come over her. She couldn't let that happen to this mortal. Already the dark was coming fast. She glanced up at the sky and bit her lip wondering what she should do.<br>The mortal was still leaning with his back against that metal stake surrounded by that awful fence of bones. He had barely lifted his head and for a moment, she wondered if he was asleep.  
>It would be a great feat of strength if he was, not only because she could see how much pain he was in, but it would take a Herculean effort, to put aside everything she was sure he had seen and decide that he was going to focus on his own needs.<br>She hadn't forgotten how he had distracted the monster from coming after her, and she needed to find a way to thank him for that.  
>She blinked having forgotten how fast it grew dark in hell. She also knew what could happen here during the night for any soul that was left on their own and that had obviously been the bastards aim.<br>Ariadne purposed within herself right there that she would help him survive the night, and she knew that wouldn't be easy because the night of hell lacked description, but the many she had seen go through it, had come out veritably changed, and it wasn't long after that they succumbed.  
>She gripped the hilt of her sword.<br>That wasn't going to happen this time.

Ω

When Dean raised his head from his knees again, he realized that night had descended upon hell, and this night was similar to the blackness he had experienced when he had been chained up like a piece of meat waiting for the butcher on Hell's doorstep.  
>Similar, but not entirely the same, because while that darkness had been all-consuming, it had been quiet. This blackness was peppered with sounds. Screaming and the slicing and carving of the silver pikes as they were lowered onto the racks.<br>Dean cringed and wished for something, anything to block up his ears. There were times when he would look up and not be able to see more than five feet in front of him. The only thing he could really make out was the ghostly light that the bones gave off. It provided him enough light to see the ring of bones he was in and everything in between, but nothing beyond that.  
>It was as if the light extended from the bones inward but stopped as soon as it reached the outer edges of the sphere and then just ceased to exist.<br>Dean couldn't see any more than ten feet in front of him. But the light was almost worse, because the sounds continued. Sometimes they sounded far away, like the howl of a hell hound or close enough that it was just outside of his cell and had translated into a bloodcurdling scream that he feared would burst his ear drums.  
>After a certain amount of time though the screaming became too much and he covered his ears and gritted his teeth, hoping...praying it would go away, or that if it didn't, it would at least knock him out so he wouldn't have to hear it.<br>He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else. Unbidden, a memory came to him. One of the only ones he still had of his mother.  
>He had been three years old and afraid of the thing in his closet. He kept waking up and calling for his mom.<br>"It's too dark mommy," the three year old had said tearfully. Mary tenderly stroked his hair and kissed his forehead.  
>"Then pretend there's light Dean."<br>He had no idea why he suddenly thought of it now, but thinking about his mom was even worse. He has been able to remember she was gone when he was alive but this had been the first time he had forgotten she was dead, and the pain was even worse.  
>The blackness outside of the cell seemed to grow and Dean frowned, wondering if it had somehow increased in density.<br>Then he realized what was happening.  
>There was a black fog creeping along the ground slowly but surely. It moved steadily coming ever so slowly closer to him. It was so dense that he couldn't see through it and it could only be described as a soup slowly flooding the ground and blocking out all behind it.<br>Dean cringed and pressed back against the stake he was chained to as the mist crept closer.  
>He knew there was nothing he could do, but instead of hiding his face again, he found he couldn't even close his eyes. So half out of horror and morbid curiosity, Dean watched, eyes wide as the smoke crept closer.<br>It almost seemed as if the fog itself had a life force. Like it was slowly testing each area it moved over. It had reached the fence of bones, and slowly but surely began to slide up and over the top.  
>Dean pulled his legs in and watched with terror as it came right up to his feet.<br>And then it stopped.  
>Why, he didn't know, but it seemed to be assessing his presence, gauging just what he was and if he was worth the effort to torment.<br>Dean didn't know why but for some deranged and morbid reason that made him mad. He was in Hell, and now he was being assessed whether or not he was fit for torture?  
>He didn't have time to think more on that subject however, because just as that last thought registered in his brain, the fog suddenly surged forward and he was engulfed in blackness.<p>

Ω

Ariadne crept out of the wood, and realized that the fog had come. All of a sudden she remembered her first night in Hell when she had been chained to a stake similar to his and left alone to the elements.  
>She knew it was a process designed to make one scream for the rack scream for the pain that they could understand and would at least make sense.<br>The fog fed off of the fears of the prisoners, and seeing as how he was newly arrived in Hell, his fear would be ten times greater then that of a soul who had been there for a while.  
>Ariadne took a deep breath and stepped into the middle of the fog, she drew her blade and began swinging it carefully about her and with each swing, she cleared a path in the fog for herself.<br>Her blade had magical properties as well as being deadly sharp and she had learned that there were some ways besides actually fighting, that it could be used.  
>She looked ahead and her sense of urgency increased when she saw that the mortal's cell had disappeared completely in the mist.<br>She had no idea of what the fog was making him see, but she knew she had to hurry. Quickening her stride, Ariadne kept swinging her blade through the fog, making it dissipate around her until she could see the ground again and knew where to put her feet.  
>Only knowing where the general direction of the cell was, Ariadne moved carefully but quickly until she felt her sword clink against bone. Lifting her long skirt, she stepped over the fence of human and monster marrow. Ariadne swung her sword in a circle around her and cleared away some of the fog in the area until she caught sight of the mortal.<br>Then she physically felt her heart break.  
>He was pressed up against his metal stake, his knees pulled up against his chest, arms wrapped around them. His eyes were open although Ariadne didn't know how much he was actually seeing, and he was rocking back and forth slightly, head turning in every direction every few seconds as if looking for an unseen enemy.<br>Moved with compassion and sorrow, Ariadne sheathed her blade and sank to her knees beside him.  
>His eyes kept moving like he wasn't even seeing her, but she wasn't paying attention to his eyes anymore. Instead, Ariadne reached out and placed both her hands on his temples.<br>Immediately, his movements stopped, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped back against her. Ariadne flinched as she bore his waist, and then she flinched again when she saw what he was seeing.  
>The mist had called up memories from a long hidden past. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ariadne knew she was seeing events that were incredibly private, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.<br>In her mind's eye, she saw a room a cold grey room made entirely of stone in which there were no windows and pillars carved from the rock held up the ceiling, a room in which two people were fighting.  
>One was a good looking young man, the other was a woman with long golden hair. On the floor at their feet a circular design had been carved into the floor. Ariadne didn't have time to take a good look at it, because even as she did so, the young man raised his dagger and plunged it into the woman's chest.<br>Her mouth opened in a soundless scream of terror and her eyes seemed to spark before she bent over at the waist and toppled to the floor.  
>Instead of catching his breath or checking himself for wounds, the young man instead knelt beside her, removed his blade from her chest and to Ariadne's horror began to lick the blood off the knife. Then when it was clean, he slit her throat and pulled it up to his face, head buried in it.<br>When he looked up again, Ariadne caught a glimpse of him, and she flinched when she saw that his mouth was covered in blood. The corpse of the woman had gone pale and limp and he shoved the body away from him and got to his feet. Finally he turned to look at her and Ariadne felt her throat clench up when he blinked and opened his eyes again to reveal a pair of obsidian orbs. He didn't even bother to wipe the blood from his mouth and his teeth were coated with it, dripping with crimson tear drops of life spent.  
>Then the vision went black and Ariadne went limp. She had forgotten she was still holding the body of the mortal and nearly crumbled under his weight before she caught him and readjusted herself.<br>He had stopped trembling and his eyes had closed. With an enormous effort Ariadne pushed the memory of the vision away. She had had no idea what it meant and was almost ashamed that she had witnessed something so personal. But it wasn't like she had had much of a choice.  
>Instead she reached out and drew the mortal closer to her, wrapping her arms around his chest, completely ignoring the gaping wound in his shoulder and rested her forehead against the back of his head.<br>She was suddenly at a loss as to how to comfort him. Ariadne knew he had no idea that she was there but that didn't matter. She had taken the vision from his head, but somehow that didn't feel like enough.  
>Suddenly, she had an idea, she wasn't sure how much good it would do, but after all, what did she have to lose?<p>

So Ariadne opened her mouth and began to sing. It was the very same lullaby her mother had sung to her and as the words left her mouth, the mortal visibly began to relax. His muscles began to unclench, his rapid breathing began to slow and the lines in his handsome face began to smooth out.  
>Ariadne tenderly stroked his hair and kept singing softly. It was the only thing she knew to do and yet it seemed to be enough.<br>So she remained that way...all night. She never moved nor stirred as the darkness swirled around them coming close but when it did, she raised her blade again and pushed it away cutting a path around them.  
>She continued stroking his hair and singing for hour after hour, but mortal never stirred. His fingers didn't even twitch. The only indication that Ariadne had that he was still with her was the steady rise and fall of his chest.<br>Her muscles ached from not being able to move, but she did her best to ignore it. Still she kept on singing and when her voice gave out, she hummed.  
>As she did so, she took the time to look at his face. The dark bruising on it had begun to fade and the series of red welts along his jawline had begun to even out and lose their color.<br>Now that she was so close to him, Ariadne was able to look at his face in a way that she hadn't been able to in the forest.  
>Her blood ran cold when she wondered what they would do to him in the morning, and it soon became ice because she knew that there wasn't anything that she could do about it.<br>But Ariadne chose not to think about that now. Night was abating and for now he had survived.  
>As soon as the first dull red rays of light peaked over the crest of the hill the mist vanished and Ariadne gently laid the mortal to rest on the ground. She stepped over the bone barrier and dashed as fast as she could for the shelter of the burned forest.<br>She didn't want to be there to see what they would do to him when he woke up.  
>Ariadne didn't even realize until she had hidden herself under the shadow of the trees that she was crying.<p>

Ω

When Dean woke up he felt like he had been run over by a semi-truck. His head was throbbing and there was an intense ringing in his ears. He furrowed his brow and rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the ache.  
>A haunting melody was drifting through the shadowy passages of his consciousness. He was sure he had never heard the song before in his life and he couldn't remember the words, but the melody was impossible to forget, and it wouldn't go away.<br>The last thing he remembered was seeing the black smoke creeping across the ground toward him and then his memory blacked out.  
>It was probably better that it happened that way because he had no idea how he would have survived the night otherwise. The things he might have seen...<br>All of a sudden the howl of a hellhound shot through the sky across the clearing and Dean stiffened up like a board.  
>He looked around wildly in every direction searching for the source of the sound as it seemed to be coming in all directions.<br>Then finally at the top of the hill about a kilometer off, two figures appeared. One was inordinately shorter than the other but his form was much more imposing. The humanoid figure was leaning slightly on a stick and at the sight of it and him, Dean knew exactly who it was and his blood ran cold.  
>All of a sudden, they disappeared and Dean's brow furrowed as he looked around nervously for them.<br>When he turned back to his original position, he nearly yelled in surprise when he saw Alastair was standing two feet away from him leaning on his cane, looking down at him with a smile.  
>"Good morning Dean," he said almost cheerfully. "Did you sleep well?"<br>"Go to hell," Dean snarled in reply.  
>As soon as he said the words, Alastair tossed back his head and uttered a laugh that raised the hair on the back of Dean's neck. It was then that he noticed the creature beside the demon.<br>It was a hellhound, but very much unlike the one he had seen yesterday. This one was ash grey and moved softly across the ground making no more sound then a cat. Its fur was thick and matted and all in a tangle. There was a feral snarl on its lips and its eyes were heavy with violence. And as Alastair laughed a deep rough sound emitted from its throat almost as if it were laughing as well.  
>It opened its eyes and gazed at Dean and the elder Winchester winced when he saw two white orbs peering at him.<br>Alastair's laughter had abated by this time and he looked at Dean with eyes as white as the hellhounds, it was devoid of any kind of laughter.  
>"We're already here Dean," he replied calmly. It was maddening how difficult it was it to get a rise out of him. But then again, what was there to get upset about? After all, Alastair had control of him. But Dean decided he didn't want to think about that.<br>"Well, get on with it then," he growled up at the demon, and Alastair grinned fully exposing his rows of long white teeth.  
>"Happy to," he whispered, and then raised his hand snapping his fingers. Immediately the chain that bound Dean to the stake began to fade and became brittle as clay, then it disappeared altogether.<br>Then faster than Dean's eyes could follow, Alastair lifted his cane and tapped Dean on the shoulder.  
>Immediately the sensation that he had felt the previous day came over him. It was as if he had no control over his muscular functioning anymore.<br>Alastair snapped his fingers and all of a sudden Dean found himself on his feet, once again attempting to stop his feet from moving but having no success, just like the day before.  
>Alastair mounted the hellhound and turned it around before glancing over his shoulder to ensure Dean was behind him.<br>"Come, come we don't have all day," he said and all of a sudden the hellhound disappeared completely and reappeared on the top of the hill where it had been earlier.  
>Dean moved to follow, or rather his body immediately started hurrying while his mind did everything it could to slow it down. But it was useless. He tired just like he would normally but it was like he could stop moving. So it was by the time he reached the top of the hill where Alastair was, it felt like he had been running for hours.<br>Dean glanced down at his feet and saw to no one's surprise that they were sliced clean through, as his shoes were pretty much nonexistent by this time.  
>He growled low in his throat, more from frustration then pain, and glared up at Alastair who was still sitting atop the hellhound.<p>

"Took you long enough," the demon commented, but before Dean had time to come up with a sarcastic reply, they were off again.  
>Alastair would disappear and reappear on the hill about a kilometer away and then he would wait while Dean ran down into the valley after them until he had reached the top of the hill, and each time he did this, he grew more and more exhausted so he couldn't even say anything when he caught up to them.<br>By the time they heard the screams from the racks in the distance, and arrived at the very last hill before descending into the field of Gehenna, Dean was barely managing to stay on his feet.  
>He bent over at the waist trying to catch his breath but it seemed to be of no avail simply because the air seemed to get close again and suddenly, Dean found it hard to breathe almost as if the air was stinging his lungs.<br>It was like before at the forest when a poison seemed to be coating his lungs and absorbing the air in them.  
>Dean felt a momentary period of panic before his lungs cleared and he could breathe again. But it felt as if his windpipe was being funneled and he couldn't get all the air into his lungs that he wanted to, only some of it which of course sapped some of his strength.<br>When he had found it in himself to look up again, he was standing at the edge of the field and before him lay miles and miles of racks.  
>He hadn't seen all of it yesterday and now that he did, he wanted to shut his eyes and never open them again.<br>"Let the fun begin," Alastair murmured and Dean jumped, having forgotten for a moment that he was there. He glanced up at the demon but found that Alastair was looking out over the valleys with an expression on his face that looked horrifically like satisfaction.  
>Without a word to the Winchester, he turned and rode the hellhound down into the first valley and Dean had no choice but to follow.<br>Once the head demon had entered the ravine and while Dean was still struggling down the slope, he dismounted and called out in a strange garbled language to one of the figures standing near the racks.  
>It turned.<br>Dean who had been painstakingly making his way down the slope, saw who he was coming up to, or rather what he was coming up to, and tried to stop. However seeing as how he couldn't control his muscles that didn't work very well and the result was him falling on his face in the dirt.  
>Alastair sighed as if he were training a child and before Dean realized what was happening he had stabbed downward with his cane. But this time a sharp stalactite of metal appeared out of the end of his cane and it stabbed right through Dean's hand.<br>He let out a howl of pain, and scrambled away on his hands and knees. He glanced down at his hand and saw with dismay that it had been pierced clean through and he could look through it to the other side.  
>"What the hell did you do?" He managed in a strangled whisper. Alastair sighed again as if he were talking to a child.<br>"I would have thought it were quite obvious," he said calmly. And then he turned away from Dean and began to converse with the dark figure again.  
>Dean didn't pay much attention as he was cursing Alastair in every language he could think of. But oddest of all, was that his hand had stopped bleeding, but there was still the puncture in it.<br>Slowly, painstakingly, he got to his feet. But by this time, Alastair had stopped talking and had looked back at Dean.  
>Dean glanced at the figure he was talking to and almost fell back a step.<br>Alastair was talking to a skeleton.  
>But it was not simply a skeleton per se. It was draped in a long black robe, a sword strapped to its waist. The sleeves of the robe appeared heavy and they hung past its hands so Dean couldn't see them, not that he would want to. The robe fell past its feet to the ground so that it dragged over it and Dean saw a long hood against the robe of its back. But the most unnerving thing about it was that the skeleton was engulfed in black flame and yet it didn't burn.<br>It stood motionless, staring at him and even though it had no eyes, Dean felt as if he were being searched. All of a sudden a moment later he felt a stabbing sensation in his head and he dropped to his knees as if he had been struck. His eyes were shut as he tried to force the pain away, but it was no use. It was as if he were trying to hold back a river using only his hands.  
>Then, as suddenly as it had come the pain vanished and Dean rocked back from the sudden loss of it. After a moment he was able to get to his feet again.<br>Alastair was gazing at him with a smug little smile on his infuriating face.  
>"Dean allow me to introduce you to Thanatos. He is an ambassador for Death. Up top he would look very different but down here he is in his natural state. He will be responsible for you today. Oh and Dean, I should warn you, each new resident that arrives in Gehenna is put a…physical examination."<br>"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked glancing nervously at Thanatos, but Alastair didn't answer. The skeleton seemed to be smiling even though it didn't have the muscles to move. And then as he looked carefully at it, a dull red light appeared in the skeletons eye sockets.  
>Despite himself Dean cringed. It wasn't at all pleasant to be looking at something that was supposed to be dead, and then seeing something curiously like life appearing in it.<p>

After a few seconds of trying to match its gaze he gave up and stared at the ground.  
>"Very well then," Alastair said breaking the silence. "I'll leave him to you Thanatos, I'll be back sometime later."<br>With that he had vanished into thin air. A sick feeling of dread settled in Dean's stomach when he realized it was just the two of them. Hesitantly he glanced back at the ambassador of Death.  
>"I take it you're not much for conversation," he muttered to the skeleton.<p>

Thanatos grinned, at least that was what it seemed like he was trying to do. It came out looking more like a horrible leer.  
>Then it took a step toward him. Dean tried to back up but found that Alastair's power was still in his muscles so he couldn't move.<br>Thanatos reached out a skeletal hand and gently lifted up Dean's chin so it could look into his eyes. Dean willed his eyelids to shut, but he should've realized that he had no more power over his body then an ant had over a boulder.  
>The dull red lights in its eye sockets seemed to glow even brighter and Dean felt as if his eyes were being seared. It was like a hot needle had been inserted into each of his pupils causing his vision to grow red and fiery and making the souls of the damned rise before his eyes, their screams more potent and heart rending.<br>Then for the second time that day, Dean felt his strength give out and he collapsed at Death's feet.

Ω

Ariadne lifted her skirts and leaped over the small brook that trickled through the wood. She was becoming horribly impatient and felt that she must move around or she would lose her mind from worry.  
>Every so often the mortal's handsome face would flash in her mind and she would cringe, wondering what on earth they were doing to him<p>

She shook her head. She had to stop thinking like that or she would be succumbing to a new form of torture. Instead, she decided to focus on her surroundings hoping that would clear her mind.

Unlike the forest she had encountered the mortal in before, the trees were not as tall, perhaps only fifteen feet this time. They were completely devoid of leaves but they were packed so close together that their branches created an arch over her so she could not be seen from above. They almost blocked out the dull red light that the sky emitted and cast dim eerie shadows on the torn up earth beneath her feet.

The ground itself was black, something that wasn't unexpected, but it had the appearance of being almost backed and every feet, the marrow of a human or a monster would protrude from the ground in front of her, almost tripping Ariadne up a few times.

The whole wood was awash in ash greys, dull brown, tar blacks as well as deep purples. The purple color originated from the odd plants that were situated under each tree. Their leaves had jagged edges and were shot through with bone white shades. They were large and stretched about as high as her waist.

Ariadne eyed them warily. In all the time she had been here, she had never seen plants like these before, so naturally she gave them a wide birth. They didn't move even when a slight breeze crept through the trunk of the trees.

The brook Ariadne had just stepped over was a curious thing. The waters were neither blue nor black, but a dull bronze color, that made her unsure of whether it was poisonous or harmless. Then she wanted to scoff at herself.

It was Hell. Nothing here was harmless.

Ariadne's thoughts drifted back to the night before and the vision she had seen in the mortal's head. She couldn't deny how disturbing it had been, and it must have been even more unnerving for him given the state he had been in when she found him.

She knew that Hell twisted the thoughts of men took their deepest fears and augmented them, so it was possible that the vision she had seen wasn't even true, hadn't happened and might never happen. But it was obviously frightening enough to render him almost incapacitated by it.

Ariadne thought back to her fight with the monster's in the pool and wondered if what he had seen had had something to do with them.

She glanced absently around, marking the passage of time in the sky. The day was half done and she knew within a few hours, the mortal would be returned to his cell.

That was the way it worked in Hell. Souls were tortured in shifts. Some were tormented at night, others during the day.

It was morbidly ironic that a place so horrible would be so normally regimented. .

Ariadne glanced around her. She needed to find some shelter. The sooner she did so, it would be that much more difficult for her to be found.

She wondered if Lucifer had given up yet. It was unlikely given the fact that he had once told her that she was one of his greatest prizes. She shuddered.

Coming back here had shifted the tables in his favor. But remarkably, she didn't regret it at all. Better that she be here to face her fears, then run from him for eternity like a rabbit.

She was a Nephilim, the only one in existence, her uncle had told her, and they didn't run and hide. But even though she was half angel there was a human side to her as well, and side that still got afraid, still felt pain, and still cried.

Ariadne would never be able to completely get rid of that side of her, and she didn't want to. If it were gone, she would be exactly like the angels, some she dreaded almost more than the possibility of her becoming a demon.

She had never aspired to be all of any one thing, but rather be a little of everything, it was much more satisfying that way.

All of a sudden something caught her eye, and she stepped through the trees toward it.

She found herself standing in a clearing with trees surrounding her in a perfect circle. Straight ahead of her was a large black outcropping of rock with wide overhang almost like the one she had seen mortal take shelter in in the other forest.

A small brook trickled past its mouth with water the same bronze colour as before.

It was perfect.

As far as she could tell the interior went back for several yards, but she grimaced to think that some monster might have taken up residence in it before she got there.

_Only one way to find out._

She drew her sword and walked into the cave.

Ω

When Dean came to again, he was no longer outside. Instead he was lying on a table inside of a crudely made structure.

It looked like one of those run down cabins you see in the woods, the kind where the wood was rotting and it was badly in need of a paint job. There was even a few surrounding the table he was lying on. There was only one door in the hut and dust listed in the corners, there were no windows.

Dean moved to get up but found that his hands were restrained by harsh grating ropes. She looked around and had to bite his lips clean through again when he realized that the gaping wound in his shoulder had also been tied down. Another metal instrument had been inserted in it so it was anchored to the table.

"What, what's going on?" Dean asked to no one in particular. As usual there was silence. He twisted his neck around and gave a low groan of agony when he felt his skin tear.

Suddenly a figure stepped out of the shadows and his heart jumped into his throat when he saw that it was Thanatos.

In the dim light of the room, the flames coming off his body were even easier to see, and every so often, they would change color, flickering from black to red and back again.

He didn't say anything to Dean, not that that was surprising, instead Thanatos pulled up a chair and seated himself in it. After a few seconds, he lifted one of his bony hands and beckoned to someone who must have been standing in the corner.

Because of his vantage point, Dean couldn't exactly see who it was, but after a moment, another figure walked around and leered at the elder Winchester. Dean cringed away from it.

The most horrific looking demon was peering down at him. All the demons Dean had seen up top had taken human hosts so they would walk among humans unnoticed. But down here, in some kind of sick deranged way, they were in their natural habitat.

Dean had never seen the natural form of a demon, he didn't even realize when he had bit his lips clean through again.

This monster from the pit had a humanoid shape, but it appeared as if the skin had been stripped clean from his body, which of course left the muscles underneath exposed. Its eyes of course were black. But because of the lack of skin they protruded from its head more then was normal making him look almost bug eyed.

It was tall, at least seven feet and all along his body, almost like a pattern there were these black welts of all shapes and sizes. It walked with a slow shuffling gait which made it appear zombie like.

It leered at Dean, causing him to cringe even more. After a moment, it looked up at Thanatos who was still sitting by the table in his chair. Dean looked in his direction as well, but the skeleton's face was expressionless as usual.

"Proceed." Dean reeled back as if struck. Thanatos had spoken but his voice sounded like the unfolding of heavy sheets of parchment. It sounded impossibly old, which was probably why he spoken so quietly. Then again, death was as old as time itself, so it shouldn't have been that surprising.

"Proceed? What do you mean? Proceed with what?" Dean asked frantically.

In answer to his question, the demon produced a small blade about the length of his hand. It was bladed on both sides and had a small wooden hilt in the middle.

Without another word, the demon bent over and began to slice through the material of Dean's jeans right up by his groin.

_What kind of porno is this? _Flashed through his mind. But the demon paid no attention to the material, as soon as it had cut through the cloth, it started to slice through the sensitive skin between his upper body and where his leg began.

"What…..what are you doing?" Dean managed to force out, both in shock and in pain. The demon paid no mind, it was as if he hadn't heard him.

Dean gave a scream of agony, as the monster cut deeper into his leg, slicing through nerves, sinew and muscle. Gradually Dean lost all feeling again. He began to cry out, long howling wails of agony and pain that would have made any human soul weep to hear them, but it was as if he were in a sound proof room because no one came, no one rescued him.

He glanced down, and immediately wished he hadn't. His leg was covered in blood and he could see past the muscle to the white of the bone underneath.

The demon put away the blade and brought out an instrument made of wood that had jagged blades sticking out of it. It bent over his leg again and there was a sawing sound and Dean realized with horror that it was cutting through the bone

Something Alastair had said came back to him as he bit through his already punctured lips for the millionth time.

_I should warn you, that every new resident that arrives in Gehenna is put through a…..physical examination. _

Oh God, it all made sense now. A physical examination in terms of Hell's principles would mean that they were going to take him apart limb by limb…..and then put him back together again.

As the blade descended toward his body again, Dean had never wished more that he wasn't right.

Ω

Ariadne sheathed her blade. The cave had yielded nothing and she had spent the better part of the day moving rocks around so as to make it more comfortable for herself. After all if this was where she was going to spend most of her days she might as well make it somewhat livable.

Now as she exited the cave and glanced at the sky, she saw that it was rapidly getting dark. The mortal would be back soon and she wanted to make sure he was alright. Well, as alright as he possibly could be.

She wondered what they had done to him today and then grimaced. She didn't want to imagine it, didn't even want to think about. Whatever it was it had probably been something far too horrible.

She grew angry at her helplessness. But Hell was the place of injustice wasn't it? You could have done no great wrong in your entire life and yet one mistake and you end up here. Or you could sell your soul to save someone you love and in that one selfless act you were damned for eternity.

Two thousand years and Ariadne would never get over the sheer _wrongness_.

She hurried over the stream at the mouth of the cave and dashed back the way she had come, hoping….praying that the mortal was where she had found him the night before, and that he was alright.

Ω

When Dean opened his eyes again, he felt like he had just been drawn and quartered. The creases between all four limbs that had connected his arms and legs to his body, were red, crudely stitched together and burning. The wound in his shoulder was inflamed and his side was bloody. They had sewn up his clothes at least.

He closed his eyes again trying to will away the pain and cursed Alastair with every fibre of his being. He had been barely conscious when Thanatos had returned him to the head demon and presented him with a clipboard.

Dean had had no idea what it had said but it probably mentioned something like: Patient only screamed five hundred time during the process. Patient is now fit for maximum torture.

The bastards.

He was exhausted. And the enormity that this was what he could expect for eternity was slowly beginning to dawn on him.

Dean was thankful that no one was there to see when his eyes blurred. He couldn't do it. Sooner or later, he would succumb and god only knows what would happen then.

What would happen?

"Get ahold of yourself Dean," he muttered furiously, clenching his fists.  
>He looked up and harshly wiped his eyes clearing his blurred vision.<br>It was then that he saw something.  
>It was a blurry figure by the burnt out forest of trees about a hundred yards off. Dean squinted, trying to make out what it was. Finally his gaze sharpened and he realized what it was. His breath caught in his throat.<br>It was a woman. She was walking toward him slowly, wearing a long white dress that gave the appearance that she was floating over the ground, almost like a mist. She had waist length black hair and was tall and slim. In at her waist she was carrying an instrument that looked like a blade.  
>Dean tensed, pushing himself up against the pole he was chained to. Female demons were the worst. They could manipulate you in ways that male ones couldn't, appealing to your physical needs, and then they would rip the rug out from under you.<br>Dean curled into an upright fetal position and pressed his head against his knees hoping that if she were to catch sight of him, she would think of him as a large rock.  
>Five minutes passed and Dean risked a glance up, hoping she had moved on.<br>No such luck.  
>She was now ten feet from him and he was solely in her sights. Knowing that there was nothing he could do, Dean returned her gaze, hoping against hope that this wasn't some new torture devised by Alastair. A moment later though, he forgot the head demon completely.<p>

Ω


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Torture of the Damned

_"__Less talk, more screaming."- Michael J. Sullivan_

This was likely one of the most foolish things she had ever done. But Ariadne had had enough of the cloak and dagger antics, she wanted to talk to him.

When she saw that they had returned the mortal to his cell of sorts, she had almost collapsed from relief. He looked terrible but no more than unlike the other souls here. Which was of course bad, but not as bad as it could have been.

She had stood in the shadows of the trees for a good five minutes, wrestling within herself whether she should go out or remain in hiding. She hated indecision, it was almost worse then making the wrong decision because even in making the wrong decision you were at least doing something. In indecision, you were doing nothing.

That was what prompted her to take a deep breath and step out of the shadows. As soon as she abandoned the shadows of the trees, she felt exposed, vulnerable. She shivered.

But it was too late to stop now. She walked slowly and carefully across the barren field toward him. He hadn't caught sight of her yet which caused her to relax somewhat, but soon he would.

Sure enough, a few seconds later he glanced up and Ariadne found herself staring into his emerald like eyes. She almost stumbled there. How were they so green? And why was it that she was able to look into them and see an ocean of pain that made her want to weep even though she had no idea why?

She swallowed hard but kept moving. His eyes still hadn't left her face, and she decided that that was a good thing. There wasn't any fear there, but he did look very wary and cautious. She wondered what she would say to reassure him, but then decided it might be better to show him instead.

Ariadne glanced down at her waist and noted that her sword still hung there. It's presence seemed to help ground her.

She wondered how she would ever explain to him that she meant him no harm. He wasn't likely to trust her and she wanted him to.

Ariadne glanced back at him and noticed that he was still looking at her. All the emotion had drained from his face so it appeared as if she were looking into a bottomless pit. It was almost like he was sizing her up, trying to decide who or what she was.

Then she saw resignation fill his eyes and she wondered at its source.

She was now about twenty feet away from him, and it was here that she decided to stop and look at him even more carefully then she had before. Up close his wounds looked even worse, red, raw and irritated masses of flesh that made Ariadne wince but she decided not to focus on that.

Instead, she looked in his eyes again and tried to convey with her eyes that she meant him no harm. It was difficult to do, but she hoped he saw what she was trying to say without words.

She felt the touch of his mind against her own, and she felt relieved, he hadn't lost control of his mind to the point of insanity which was happened after a while to one who had spent enough time being tortured.

But while there was a great deal of fear swirling around his mind, like tendrils of smoke seeking to gain a foothold, he was holding them off with a hope stronger then she had ever felt before.

Ariadne was sure then, that she was doing the right thing.

Ω

Dean stared at her, forgetting for a moment the pain he was in. Her figure, while somewhat stooped with exhaustion, had a surprising nobility to it that was as out of place in hell as an ice cube on a beach.

Her hair which was black as night, hung down her back in wave upon wave. It was the type of hair that would look good no matter how hard you tried to mess it up. It was piles and piles of silk cascading out of her head until it created a dark curtain covering her face.

He might have almost missed her face at the sight of her hair, but when he did take a second to notice it, he couldn't look away.

Dean wasn't an expert in beauty. He had hit on everything in a skirt when he was alive. But he knew if he had seen this girl up top, he never would have been able to look at another female after.

She was beyond beautiful, in the sense that there was something almost otherworldly about her. Dean was convinced that no human could possibly be that exquisite. Which served to heighten his fear of her even more….because if she wasn't human…..there was only one other thing she could be.

Upon reaching this conclusion, he ducked his head and buried his face in his upright knees again.

There was silence, intense silence, when even the noises of the souls had died away and the melancholy sounds of the wind rushing across the plain outside of the little cleft he was chained in faded. He could hear nothing but the sound of his own laboured breathing.

The passage of time was unbearably slow. Dean counted the number of his breaths as the air steadily and methodically moved up and down his windpipe

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

_Four…._

And so on.

Dean remained like that for as long as he could bear it, and then upon deciding that he would rather have her do to him whatever she planned to do then sit here in the silence waiting, he looked up to tell her so. But before the words had even begun to vibrate his vocal chords, they died.

She had drifted closer, and Dean found himself mesmerized by the way she moved. It was as if her dress which was simple, white, and touching the tops of the rocks on the ground transformed her entire form to a white mist moving over the ground. It was eerie but also somewhat comforting.

Dean's eyes moved up her body in an attempt to see all of her, but his perusal stopped when it reached her eyes. Never before had he seen a gaze so hard and unyielding but also so incredibly gentle.

It….it was exactly the way his mother used to look at him when he was very small and she was trying to tell him something important. His eyes smarted at the memory of her and he blinked and looked away, willing his emotions to dry up.

Thinking about her would do no good, hell thinking about Sam wouldn't do any good although thoughts of his little brother wouldn't leave him alone.

He wondered what he was doing and then shut that thought down right away. It wouldn't do any good to try and think about his little brother, because if he did that he might think about life back up top and if he thought about life back up top…..

A sudden movement caught his attention and his head shot up again. To his surprise, the woman was gone. He caught a glimpse of her skirts as she vanished into the forest to the right of him.

What the hell was that about?

He was now more confused than ever. If she was a demon, why did she hesitate before him? She had in fact looked almost…..timid.

He shook his head, he was going nuts from lack of sleep, and even though he was terrified of closing his eyes again, he knew that for the brief time that they were closed, he would have some kind of reprieve from this living nightmare.

Upon reaching this conclusion he closed his eyes and curled up to fall asleep.

Ω

Ariadne leaned with her back pressing against the tree. What had just happened? She was close enough to talk to him, and then her chest and throat had started to close up in panic. She felt as if she couldn't breathe.

Being so close to him had stirred long buried memories and before she realized what she was doing, she had shot like an arrow back toward the forest.

She closed her eyes cursing her cowardice. After a few minutes of trying to calm herself though, she realized what it was.

She was still somewhat human, and still suffered from the most negative human emotions. Fear being one of them. So it wasn't time yet.

Suddenly, being out in the open had become too much and she feared that any second the man she feared most would come over the top of the hills, see her and she would be imprisoned back in his dungeon for another five hundred years.

Ariadne opened her eyes. She couldn't think like that. In fact she couldn't think of herself at all. What she had to focus on now was the mortal and she couldn't let fear overcome her thinking.

It was getting late and the mist hadn't come again. Ariadne glanced out from behind her tree and saw that the mortal had curled up and fallen asleep.

She dared not go over there tonight, not when he had seen her and was aware of her presence. But tomorrow…..tomorrow she would try again. And this time, she wouldn't be afraid.

Ω

When Dean opened his eyes again, he was astonished to realize that he had not dreamed, in fact he had slept through the whole night. It had been almost tranquil…

Suddenly the howl of a hellhound shattered that reality and the hand that had loosened its grip around his throat and heart reached maximum strangulation.

He pushed himself back up against the pole in fear which quickly spiked when he saw that instead of the army of demons as in the day before, a lone hellhound was coming over the hill and riding on its back was a singular demon.

Dean didn't know why this inspired the sudden loss of breath but it did.

_Don't be an idiot Winchester, today is going to be the same as any other day. _

A hardly comforting thought.

The hellhound had by this time reached the entrance of the cleft he was in and had come to a stop. The demon leered down at him but made no effort to get down from its mount.

"Well? Get on with it then!" Dean snapped determined that he wasn't going to be a little bitch about this.

_Dump the bravado Winchester, you're gonna need all your strength just to keep breathing and not to scream. _

Again, another hardly comforting thought.

The demon slid down from the back of the hellhound and grinned at Dean, a thoroughly nauseating sight.

Up top, the demons took on human hosts so they could walk among mortals unnoticed, but down here, they took on a form more grotesque then any he had ever seen. Probably because in some kind of deranged way, they were in their natural habitat.

The demon approached him and snapped his fingers, instantly his chains fell off and Dean nearly gasped from the sudden loss of the weight.

He didn't have time to ponder that though, because the demon seized the reaping tool from his belt and hooked it through the gaping wound in Dean's shoulder dragging him to his feet.

Dean cried out from the pain and nearly collapsed but he knew if he did that the weapon would tear through his shoulder, and the pain was already a bitch.

So he clamped his mouth shut and forced himself to get to his feet. The demon hissed in satisfaction, and tied the sickle to a rope anchored by the hell hounds tail. Dean realized with some horror what he would have to do.

He would have to run behind the hellhound all the way to the racks, and if he stumbled or fell along the way, he would lose his shoulder and arm. Of course they would heal him but that didn't matter. It wouldn't take away the pain.

The sickle would be in his shoulder the entire road to the rack. Dean closed his eyes as the demon remounted the hell hound and prayed to whatever good spirit still existed in this ugly ass hole, that he wouldn't fall.

He opened his eyes just in time to see the hell hound start to run and they were off. Dean forced his tired feet to move as fast as they could even though they were screaming in protest. He willed his lungs to keep inhaling even though with each breath he took, it felt as if he were inhaling heat, and a burning sensation filled his chest.

To his astonishment however and partial relief, he didn't fall, didn't even stumble. Not a very big victory, but he would take what he could get.

Unfortunately the only thing he did get was a lot more pain.

Once they arrived at the racks, Dean saw to his utter chagrin that Alastair was waiting for him. Every morning he would get up hoping that he wouldn't have to see the son of bitch's face, and every time he got to the racks, he was disappointed.

On this particular morning though, he was almost too tired to care. The demon unhooked the sickle from his shoulder and Dean could feel the wound oozing blood. He didn't want to look at it for fear that he would pass out and there would be nothing worse than that.

Instead he bent at the waist and tried to reduce the flow of air into his lungs, hoping that the burning would stop. It didn't though.

"Nothing like a morning run to get the body and mind ready for the day huh Dean?" Alastair asked cheerily.

"Shut….the hell….up," Dean managed to force out between gasps for air. Alastair chuckled and moved away from the prisoner. He rubbed his hands together as if warming them and wondered what fun he would have today.

Dean for his part was trying to stay coherent and on his feet because he knew that if keeled over the torture would be that much worse.

"Well? Let's get this over with," he practically snarled, straightening up as much as he could. Alastair rubbed the side of his face.

Then he turned, put two of his fingers to his lips and whistled long and shrill. Dean winced as the sound pierced his eardrums.

Out of the red cloud of smoke appeared a contraption that looked almost like a ski lift. Except there were four steel clamps which Dean realized with a sinking feeling were meant for his arms and legs.

It was being towed on a pulley system. Dean frowned as he wondered what it hung over. If it was just a ride through hell, it would be one of the more bizarre things that had happened while he was here but it wouldn't be too bad.

He should've known it was just a ruse.

Alastair made a parting motion with his hands and suddenly the toxic red smoke cleared. For a few seconds, Dean was able to breathe normally. And then he saw the pit.

This little demonic ski lift was suspended over a ravine that looked seemingly bottomless. It was utterly black in the deep and Dean swallowed hard.

Somehow he knew he would be making a one way trip down there. He didn't dare look at Alastair's face for fear that his nerve would break.

The head demon snapped his fingers and all of a sudden Dean was in the harness. Except Alastair neglected to tie his hands to the front straps.

That left Dean dangling by his feet about to go over one of the deepest pits he had ever seen.

"Haven't you forgotten something?" he called to Alastair trying to sound calm, like this wasn't a big deal.

Lucifer's chief demon grinned and shook his head. "Not at all."

He snapped his fingers one more time and suddenly Dean was plunging head first into the abyss.

He screamed…..he couldn't help it. But with his vocal chords shot the way that they were, the only sound that came out was a rasping strangled howl.

All of a sudden, the pulley system brought him up short and Dean felt some of his bones snap from the impact.

He gritted his teeth as tears of pain came to his eyes. All of a sudden he started moving again. And now the mobile rack was shooting him along into the dark, Dean could barely catch his breath he was moving so fast.

Then, he was falling. Like literally falling.

Dean landed on his back on a hard flat surface which knocked the breath from his lungs. Not that he had had much in there to begin with though.

Instantly he was moving again. _Where the hell am I going now?_ He somehow still had the coherency to think.

A bloodcurdling scream up ahead caused Dean to crane his neck around in an attempt to see what was happening.

There was a soul on the rack about fifty feet in front of him. And off to the side of it was a demon more horrific looking then Dean had ever seen. He was in a cavern unlike any he had seen before. Fires were lit all over the place and Dean literally began to think he was inside of a giant metal foundry.

Another bloodcurdling scream caused him to jump when he saw the torture planned for him about thirty feet away.

The soul ahead of him, was writhing in agony and begging for mercy. Dean swallowed in terror when he got closer. But by then it was too late.

Before he could even decide what to do, he was in front of the demon. The bastard raised a metal pike in the air and impaled Dean on his shoulder. The shock of it almost stole the scream from Dean's lips… almost.

"What….what are you doing?" he managed to ask when the pain had cleared somewhat. But the demon didn't reply. It just grinned horrifically and suddenly Dean was jerked away from it because the conveyor was moving again.

He couldn't look at his wound from this vantage point, and he sure as hell didn't want to. He had already lost most of the feeling in his fingers. But paralysis would definitely not be the main worry.

The conveyor turned a corner and all of a sudden, Dean was in intense light. It was almost like the light from an operating room, which of course didn't make him feel any better.

The rack was suddenly jerked to a stop again, and a demon even more horrific then the first stepped into the light.

It was holding something in its hands but Dean couldn't see what it was. It didn't appear to be some kind of knife, but that was hardly comforting.

The hell spawn approached and turned the container he was holding up and over. Dean barely had time to register a series of hard squeaking objects before they landed on his chest and he realized with horror what they were.

At least a dozen rats had landed on top of him, wet slimy filthy things that they were. Dean felt his throat close up in terror and his heart had all but stopped.

The demon brought something very hot close to Dean's chest, and the rats started squeaking and writhing about on top of him faster than ever.

It was then that Dean realized they were trying to get away from the heat, but he had looked around and there was nowhere else for them to go. Except down.

But that would mean…..

"No….no please…..please don't."

He didn't care that he was begging for his life, didn't care that he probably sounded like a deranged desperate pathetic lunatic. But he had to get those rats away from him.

Already he could feel their sharp teeth biting into his skin, tearing away at the flesh in an attempt to get away from the searing heat. Dean cried out in agony and tried to fling them off him but he found that his hands were restrained by steel cords.

"Please…..please stop…..please….."

Tears of terror and pain filled his eyes. The demon simply cackled and pressed the torch closer to Dean's chest. The rats went mental and the older Winchester could hear them ripping away at his skin.

The pain was worse than anything he had ever felt. But the knowledge was just as terrifying. That he was laying there helpless while tiny rodents were burrowing their way into him, was more than he could stand.

It was too much, he let out a howl of terror and then the tears came. Great big teardrops of terror and humiliation as the rats dug ever deeper into his chest cavity.

He started babbling, he had no idea what he was saying or what prayers or oaths he was uttering, but the outpouring of words hadn't happened since he was three years old and was having a panic attack from the thing that was in his closet.

He called for his Dad. He called for his Mom. He called for Sammy….but no one came.

Dean started hyperventilating, he couldn't catch his breath, and above it all…above the squeaks of the rats and the roar of the torch, the clicking laughter of the demon, high above him….Dean heard another sound.

It was a deep throaty chuckle that just made the tears come faster.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out…..was the sound of Alastair laughing.

Ω

A howl caused Ariadne's head to snap up. She had been sitting inside her newly furnished cave, just waiting, trying to concentrate on something. But if the day wasn't over soon, she felt like she would explode from impatience.

She hated waiting. It was by far the worse torture of all. She smiled grimly. If Lucifer knew that he could save himself sometime and remove all the racks. All he would have to do is plant the fear of the racks in the mortal's heads, convey to them that soon they would be tortured and he would have them completely at him mercy.

The how sounded again and Ariadne got to her feet. It was closer this time and she felt a spark of urgency. She would not fail again.

She belted her sword to her waist and walked out the cave, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light.

The howl came again and she quickened her pace toward the entrance to the forest. Ariadne wondered what they had done to him this time and she cringed imagining all the horrific possibilities.

Suddenly though, her mind cleared of that as she approached the entrance to the forest, his stooped form came into view.

Ariadne sighed from relief and this time…..without thinking it through, she stepped out of the shadows and made her way carefully towards him, determined that nothing should stop her this time.

Ω

When he came to again, he was lying chained up against the metal stake which served as his cell. Dean had never been so glad to see something somewhat normal in his entire life.

He pulled his legs up to his chest trying to block out the memory of the rats burrowing into his torso. It didn't work though and reminiscing about it was almost as bad.

The tears spilled out of his eyes and he took deep shuddering breaths trying to control them which just made the pain in his chest that much more acute. He didn't want to look down at his upper body, terrified of what he would see.

His body was falling apart, and he couldn't do anything about it. If he were back home, Sam would've wrestled him to the bed to make sure he could stitch him up. There were no stitches because he could feel the blood seeping through his shirt.

Sam.

That one word was all he needed to start weeping.

Dean Winchester didn't cry…..hadn't cried when his father died, and was too young to understand when his mother died. But Sam? Sammy was the only one who could ever make him cry like that.

Suddenly he felt a gentle breeze across his whole body. He lifted his blurry eyes to see the same woman he had seen yesterday standing in front of him. This time, however, she was much closer.

Dean flinched back again.

"What do you want?" he asked in an angry broken whisper. It was all he could manage. He had never been so physically and emotionally drained. In an answer to his question, the girl sank to her knees beside him.

Before Dean could raise his arms to attempt to defend himself, she had reached forward and placed one of her hands on his chest.

What followed next could only be described as a freezing.

A cooling sensation, like tendrils of ice, spread over his entire body stemming out from his torso. Dean flinched back against the stake, unable to move. All at once his wounds closed and the pain vanished. Dean gasped from the sudden loss of it and sagged back against the stake. He hadn't realized how tense he had been in order to block it out. He looked at the girl, but gazing at her face was far too difficult, she was just too beautiful.

"What the hell did you do?" he managed to ask finally. She cocked her head and looked at him carefully.

_Are you alright?_

If he was physically able to, Dean would've jumped ten feet in the air. He could have sworn that her lips hadn't moved but he was hearing her question in his mind, plain as day.

"W-what?" he asked. Her face remained expressionless.

_Are you alright?_

"Yeah…what the hell did you do?" Dean asked. He knew he was taking a big risk, letting her so close to him, but he decided that if she were going to do something to him, she would have done it by now.

Instead of answering his question, the girl carefully looked him over. She had all the precise gaze of a doctor examining a patient for further injuries. Her eyes fixed on the gaping wound in his shoulder that for some reason, the demons hadn't mended.

She reached out another hand and touched it very gently. Dean flinched again. Her touch was like ice, but it was the most wonderful feeling he had felt in a very long time. It was almost like the touch of snow when you feel it your hand for the first time. Soon it died and she took her hand away revealing Dean's shoulder to be whole and well. He lifted it tentatively as saw to his astonishment that he could move it with dexterity. She had repaired every muscle.

She must have seen the disbelieving look on his face because something almost like sorrow touched her eyes.

_You don't trust me. _It was more of a statement then a question. Dean shrugged his newly repaired shoulder.

"No offense lady, but I'm in hell. There's no one I trust here. Why would I?" The girl nodded.

_I suppose you want to make sure that I am not a demon then, _she said. Dean frowned.

"How are you going to prove that to me?"

In answer to his question, the girl looked around slowly and selected a sharp stone from the ground near her feet. She proceeded to roll up the sleeve of her dress and make a short incision in the underbelly of her forearm.

Dean watched with some satisfaction when the red blood began to swell up around the cut. He relaxed slightly when he realized she wasn't a demon or a monster. Then he felt he could ask a simpler question.

"I'm Dean….Dean Winchester, what's your name?" The girl hesitated before answering, she looked a little unsure.

_My name is Ariadne. _

Ω

**Hey guys, so I'm sorry this is not chapter 5. I was having a look at it, and there was a part of this chapter that I didn't like and I wanted to make some slight changes. Also, please please continue to review. I feel like sometimes reviews are very difficult to get for some people on this sight and they are really the best kind of reward for our work. When I don't get them, no matter how many people have favorited or followed, I get a little discouraged. So please review :) And happy reading**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: A Long Overdue Conversation

_"__I believe that words are strong, that they can overwhelm what we fear when fear seems more awful then life is good." – Andrew Solomon_

Ariadne...isn't that...Greek?" Dean asked, still struggling through the haze of shock and trauma that the day had wrought.  
>It had truly been one hell of a day. Dean wasn't sure if this conversation was actually happening or if he was suffering from one of his delusions. He suddenly felt the insane desire to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. Here he was in hell chained to a metal stake like a dog having a conversation with a women who was somehow more beautiful then was humanly possible and that woman couldn't speak to him in an audible voice, yet he was somehow hearing her in his head.<p>

Some alcohol would be good right about now.  
>When he found it in him to look up at her again, he found she was still sitting there watching him and her face was full of concern. Suddenly too fast for him to follow, she reached out and placed her hand on the side of his face. All at once, he felt a wave of cold wash over him and suddenly he could concentrate.<br>"What did you do?" He asked astonished touching his face where her hand had been. His skin felt chilled as if he had only been exposed to winter weather on just that area of his body.  
><em>I allowed you to focus,<em> she said. "Really?" Dean asked, "And just how the hell did you heal me before?"  
>Ariadne sighed and sat back on her heels. <em>That is in of itself a long story<em>, she said, _and you look exhausted perhaps rest is better for you right now.  
><em> This time Dean did laugh. "If I could, don't you think I would?" He asked. Then he found he would rather talk about something else.  
>"So, if your name is Greek, does that mean you're Greek?" He asked, looking for anything else to focus on.<br>Ariadne glanced down at her olive skin tone and at the dark hair covering her shoulders and nodded.  
><em>Yes,<em> she replied.  
>"Good, well now that we've established that, and I know you're not a demon, what exactly are you?"<br>Ariadne frowned, _I'm not sure what you mean. I'm a soul trapped here like you,_ she replied. Dean's eyes grew wide in disbelief  
>"Really?" He asked. "But how have you gone not crazy from being here? I was told that it may take a while, but hell will burn away your humanity."<br>_I'm not sure who told you that, but it depends on your strength and who you are. I've been here for two thousand years and I am still myself...well as much myself as I can be._  
>Dean nearly choked. "How the hell have you been able to last that long down here?! I've only been here a short time and I feel like I'm going nuts."<br>_ Like I said, it depends on who you are. And you will only lose your mind, if you choose to.  
><em> "What are you talking about?" Dean asked feeling more confused by the second. Ariadne waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.  
><em>It would take too long to explain now, but right now, I think what you need is sleep.<em>  
>Dean scoffed, "didn't you hear me? I can't, whenever I try to sleep here, I have nightmares."<br>_I heard you, but don't worry, I will stay while you sleep. Nothing will come near you, because I will keep watch._  
>Dean frowned at her. He didn't know why but for some reason he was comforted by those words.<br>"Ok," he said carefully. He curled up and lay down again. He must have been more tired then he thought, and the lack of pain in his muscles made it that much easier to relax, even on the hard ground. Within minutes his breathing steadied and he fell asleep.  
>Only then did Ariadne try and release the burning that was building in her chest. She wondered what they had done to him to make the pain in his torso so agonizing. When she touched his skin it felt as if every muscle were on fire.<br>Then she remembered seeing the red circular scars in the hard muscles of his chest and she realized what they had done.  
>The bastards! She thought furious. Alastair must have really wanted him broken. They only reserved the rats for the most important prisoners. She glanced down at him.<br>His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the lines of stress that had been so evident in his handsome face had smoothed out. Ariadne felt an odd twinge in her heart. He seemed so young maybe only one or two years older than her, she wondered what he had done to merit a seat in the lake of fire.  
>All of a sudden, something on his chest caught her eye, just below his collarbone on the left side. She looked closer and saw that is was a circular design and in the center of it was a Latin word. She frowned, why did it look so familiar?<br>Then she knew what the marking was and what it signified and she pressed a hand to her mouth in shock.  
>He was a hunter. She cursed in Greek.<br>That must be why Alastair had upped the torture at so early a stage! Dean had mentioned that he had only been here for ten years, but he must have been an incredible hunter for the head demon to want him taken to task so quickly. He must have caused a lot of trouble back on earth.  
>She pulled up the sleeve of her dress and looked at the golden flowers that were inked in her skin. She glanced at Dean's tattoo and then compared it to hers. They were both different but, contained words of anti-possession that meant the same thing.<br>_I wonder what he did to make them angry up there._ She thought to herself. She reached out and ran her fingers lightly over the tattoo. Dean shivered in his sleep slightly and she took her hand away.  
>He was different from any of the other souls she had seen here, and not just because he was a hunter although that certainly added to it. If he had killed hell's inhabitants while he was alive, then that meant that he was just like her.<br>Ariadne say back and thought back to a time when she herself had wielded a sword and killed demons. It had been so very long ago...  
>She looked down at the golden stylus hanging from its cord around her slim waist and unsheathed it.<br>It was no ordinary blade. Made of pure gold, it had been almost an extension of her arm when she was alive. It was impervious to spells or damage and it couldn't be turned against her. She was so glad that when she had woken here it had appeared next to her.  
>She looked down at Dean again. He looked like the kind of person who had been fiercely independent when he was alive, but hell had seemed to reduce him to least half of what he had been. She wondered if he had any family. Because if he did that would certainly make sense as to why he was here.<br>Ariadne could tell as soon as soon she had seen him, that he was here because of no evil that he had committed. And that would mean that he was like her and he had sold his soul to save someone he loved. She wondered who it was.  
>He stirred in his sleep and Ariadne glanced down at him. His face was conflicted even in dreams and she suddenly felt sorrowful, she wished there was some way she could comfort him. But this was hell, that word didn't exist here.<p>

Ω

_He was standing in his hotel room. There were still the same blue bed spreads, and loud wallpaper as well as the desk at the other end of the room. He turned, doing a slow 360 and nearly had a heart attack when he saw that the desk and chair at the opposite end of the room were occupied by a figure, who was turning the lamp light on and off steadily. _

_The chair slowly turned around and the alarming silhouette of a man rose up out of it. He was wearing Dean's clothes and he was holding a shotgun. Dean sucked in a breath when he realized he was in fact looking back at himself._

_The other Dean eyed him. His expression was unreadable, but Dean didn't take that as a good sign. This was a dream and he knew it, a dream he had had before but it didn't make it any less unnerving knowing that he could wake himself up whenever he wanted to. _

_ "__Hey Dean. We need to talk," his twin said. Dean sized up his reflection, he was wearing the exact same clothing, holding the exact same gun Dean would use and had the same lock pick, box cutter and switch blade that Dean would carry._

_This was getting downright creepy._

_The other Dean turned away from him and slowly began to pace the room. His walk was slow, methodical, controlled. It was as if he knew he had all the time in the world to say what he wanted to say and Dean was just going to have to stand there and take it._

_ "__Well aren't you a handsome son of a gun," he said, trying for humor to hide the growing panic inside of him. _

_ "__I get it, I'm my own worst nightmare, is that it? Like the Superman scene, a little mano y mano with myself?"_

_ "__Joke all you want Dean," his reflection said, "But you can't lie to me….I know the truth." Dean's brow furrowed. _

_ "__I know how dead you are inside. How worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror…..and hate what you see." Suddenly Dean remembered where he was and what was happening._

_ "__Sorry pal, it's not gonna work. You're not real."_

_ "__Sure I am. I'm you."_

_ "__I don't think so. Because you see this is my siesta. Not yours, all I need to do is snap my fingers and you go bye-bye." To emphasize his point, he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers._

_Nothing happened. His twin was still standing in front of him. Dean frowned and snapped his fingers again. Still nothing. _

_ "__I'm not going anywhere," the other Dean said. "And neither are you."_

_All of a sudden, the doors slammed shut, leaving an ominous creaking echo in their wake. Then the doors locked._

_ "__Like I told you," the other Dean said lifting the shot gun he was holding to his shoulder. "We need to talk." He walked slowly around Dean, looking at him carefully._

_ "__I mean you're going to hell, and you won't lift a finger to stop it. Talk about low self-esteem. But then again, it's not much of a life worth saving, is it?"_

_He said this as the two began to slowly circle each other._

_ "__Come on Dean, wake up," he muttered to himself._

_ "__I mean, after all you got nothing outside of Sam….you are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog."_

_ "__Come on, that's not true," Dean said, stalling for time, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. _

_ "__No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's Dad's. Favorite leather jacket? That's Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought?" Dean scoffed to give off the vibe that this wasn't bothering him when inside, he was shaking._

_ "__No….no all there is, is watch out for Sammy. Look after your little brother boy!" He lifted the barrel of the gun and rested it against his temple._

_ "__You can still hear your Dad's voice in your head. Clear as a bell." Now Dean was starting to get angry._

_ "__Just shut up," he said. But the other Dean wasn't listening. He took a step closer._

_ "__I mean, think about it. All he ever did was train you. Boss you around. But Sam? Sam he doted on. Sam, he loved." Dean felt his blood begin to boil._

_ "__I mean it, I'm getting angry," he said. But it was as if he wasn't even verbalizing. _

_ "__Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier, nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument." Then his tone changed. It became antagonizing but also angry. His other self really sounded furious for Dean. He was asking questions and saying things that Dean had been thinking about for years._

_ "__Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?!" _

_But by this time, Dean had had enough._

_ "__Son of a bitch!" He screamed throwing his twin back into the wall. "My father was an obsessed bastard!"_

_The other Dean had landed on the desk and as he tried to get up, Dean kicked him back down. He grabbed the gun that had fallen to the floor and smashed it across his twin's face twice before shoving it broadside into the other Dean's neck, pinning him to the wall. _

_ "__All that crap he dumped on me about protecting Sam? That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his own family!" _

_The other Dean had started to smile slightly, as if he had gotten exactly what he wanted. This of course made Dean's blood boil even more. He bashed the butt of the gun across his reflection's face again before shoving him back up against the wall for a second time._

_ "__He's the one who let Mom die! Who wasn't there for Sam, I ALWAYS was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me. And I don't deserve to go to Hell!" He pulled back and fired point blank at the other Dean's chest._

_There was an explosion and instantly the room smelt of smoke and gun powder. _

_His reflection slumped back against the desk, his chest bloody, lying motionless. Dean looked at him for a moment, trying to see if he was dead and trying to understand what was happening. Like it or not, the words were bouncing around in his head like a broken record stuck on repeat._

_Slowly he approached, more saddened then afraid or angry._

_All of a sudden, the other Dean's eyes opened. And they were jet black. He was staring into the eyes of a demon. _

_The other Dean sat up and stared at him with its new set of dark peepers. His face was still spattered with blood from the gunshot wound. Dean's eyes widened and he took a half step back. _

_ "__You can't escape me, Dean! You're gonna die. And this?! This is what you're gonna become!"_

Ω

There was a bright flash and a deafening concussion and all of a sudden, Dean shot up breathing hard, wrenching against his chains.

He felt something cold touch his hand, and he instinctively flung out his arm in a roundabout swing defensively.

Ariadne ducked, and he connected with air. _Are you well?_ she asked, frowning in concern. Dean was breathing heavily, which lasted for about ten seconds before he felt he was able to answer.

"I think so." Then his frown deepened. "You're still here?"

It was Ariadne's turn to frown. _Of course, I am. I told you I would keep watch while you slept._

Dean nodded absently, still shaken from the memory of his dream. He hadn't dreamt about his demon encounter in months, and the sudden withdrawal and reoccurrence made the memory of it all the more potent.

"What time is it?" he asked absently. Ariadne glanced up at the sky.

_Given the angle of the light when you fell asleep and the light now, I would say about an hour has passed._

Dean wanted to sigh in relief. There were still about ten hours before he would be dragged back to the rack to have his body bludgeoned. He couldn't wait to see what they had devised for him today. Metaphorically speaking of course.

He settled himself back against his stake and tried to get comfortable but after a minute or two of trying, he realized that was useless and settled for leaning forward onto his crossed legs.

"So tell me something," he said. "How did you get here? And why can't you talk to me physically?"

Ariadne tucked her legs beneath her and spread her dress over them, smoothing it down. She appeared to be thinking.

_God, how is it possible for someone so freaking beautiful to exist in a place that is so damn ugly? _Dean thought.

_Well, I suppose I would have to start from the beginning, _she said finally.

"That's usually a good place to start."

_It may take a while….._

"Ariadne, I haven't talked to a human being in a very long time. I don't freaking care how long it takes. In fact, the longer it takes the better."

A small smile crossed her face, and Dean had to resist the urge to flinch and look down. He would have to get used to looking her in the eyes.

_Very well then, I used to live in Athens, during the time of the Peloponnesian War. _Dean blinked. That wasn't what he had expected.

"So you saw Spartans?" he asked. The only movie he had seen that had to do with Greek history was 300. And even then he couldn't remember everything about it because Sam had been bitching about how it was full of historical inaccuracies.

Then he flinched, as he tried not to think about Sam.

_Yes, I even fought with some on occasion. _Ariadne said. _They made for our borders on a secret land pass in the mountains and most of the men were away fighting. So it came down to myself and a small party of younger boys and girls to waylay them and keep the city safe._

Dean leaned forward. "How'd you do it?"

_We set traps around the city, covered pits, bee's nests, nets, that kind of thing. We didn't want it to have to come down to fighting, since they outnumbered us and fortunately, we didn't have to. I was the only one who had to subdue one of the Spartans, and while he was big, he wasn't very clever. I was faster than he was and it wasn't much of a contest. I broke a few of his bones. Then we knocked him out, tied him to a tree and left him there until the army could come back and decide what to do with him._

"Really?" Dean asked. He wanted to laugh, and he almost did, but then he remembered where he was and the urge died. "But I thought that women weren't supposed to fight in ancient times?" Ariadne frowned.

_Technically we weren't supposed to. But seeing as how I was….I suppose you could call it in charge, the decision fell to me. You do what you have to do when your country and home is threatened by outsiders._

"I guess that's true, but what do you mean you were in charge?" Dean asked. This conversation was interesting and anything that took his mind off what was about to happen was good in his book. Ariadne paused, she looked like she was trying to think of an appropriate answer.

_Well, I was one of the rulers at the time of the war so I could make decisions if the ruling males were away. _

"Wait….you were one of the rulers of Athens?" Dean asked, looking surprised. She nodded and absently ran a hand through her hair.

_Princess actually, but that didn't really count for much. I was never allowed to do anything but spar when my uncle was ruling. _

Dean raised his eyebrows. "I'm talking to royalty right now?" he asked, feeling somewhat impressed.

_Not anymore, I lost my title a long time ago and the role of princess doesn't really count for a lot when you have people ruling over you._

"I get that," Dean replied, thinking of his father and wincing. He shook his head, trying desperately to block out the memory of his past life and anything that had to do with the future. The more time, he spent not thinking about it, the better and saner he felt.

He glanced down at his chest and winced at the red round scars inked into his flesh. Ariadne noticed the shadow that passed his face and she frowned.

_Are you alright Dean? _She asked. He nodded absently and then looked up at her.

"Do the scars ever go away?" he asked. She bit her lip and looked away from him. Dean shivered.

"Look at me Ariadne, do they ever go away?" She took a deep breath. _Yes. However, it takes a long time, and it's a difficult process. _

"What do you mean?"

_In order eliminate your scars, you have to will them away. _Dean frowned. "You're not making any sense."

_If you don't want the scars to be on your skin, then you can get rid of him. Hell will only affect you if you let it. It sounds insane and believe me, I thought so too, but I've been here for two thousand years, I know what I'm talking about._ Dean frowned.

"Ok, but if that's true, then why has every soul here succumbed at some point or another? I was told that no matter how long it takes, Hell burns your soul away, and that there's nothing you can do to stop it."

Ariadne had a suspicion about that, and why she was still in control of her mental faculties, but she didn't want to say it aloud and further discourage Dean.

_Because every soul here doesn't really believe that they are in control of their own minds, they automatically believe that as soon as they arrive here that their minds belong to the bastard Alastair. _

"So you're saying that people can resist the torture here?" Dean asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

_No, of course not. There are still physical limits, but I think that as long as you possess your mind, you can withstand whatever they do to you. Not everyone comes to Hell and becomes a demon Dean. _

Dean flinched. "I didn't say anything about becoming a demon," he said. Ariadne pierced him through with a look and he wanted to squirm. It was like she could see past every wall he had erected around him mind and heart.

_You didn't have to, _she said.

There was silence for a minute and Dean searched desperately for something to say. He wondered if she knew about his dream. But then he decided that he was being ridiculous. He had never told anyone about that dream, not even Sam. How she possibly know?

"I had another question," he said.

_Yes?_

"Why can't you talk to me? I mean, I'm talking to you and you're talking to me, but not with your actual voice."

A black shadow passed across her beautiful face, and suddenly Dean was almost sorry he had asked. She was quiet for a long time.

_I'll share that story once we know each other somewhat better. But I will tell you, that it was the combined torture of Lucifer and Alastair. _

Dean sucked in a breath. He had never seen the fallen angel, never wanted to and would probably run screaming like a girl if he ever did. There was a reason that he was called Satan after all.

But to have actually met him and come away somewhat sane?

"You defied him didn't you?" he asked. It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement of fact. Ariadne didn't seem like the type of woman to take orders from those she considered to be in the wrong. In that regard, she was exactly like him. And to have defied the devil?

That was hot.

But she had paid a price, the loss of the ability to speak in an audible voice. But then he frowned.

"So how is it that I can still communicate with you?" he asked. Ariadne folded her hands in her lap.

_I wanted to talk to the souls here, to offer them what little comfort I could. It's something I did a lot of when I was alive, and because of that, for some reason I can still communicate._

_Although, I will say this…..you are the first soul I've actually been able to talk to since Lucifer took my voice. The others are so caught up in pain that they can't respond._

Dean cringed. To have to be around those suffering all the time, and knowing that nothing you could ever do or say would comfort them. No scratch that, to know that there was nothing you could do to comfort them…..

Dean had spent his life saving people. But knowing that it would never be enough? That was something he wasn't sure he would ever be able to live with.

"How do you do that?" He asked, "How do you comfort souls when you know they can't hear you?" Ariadne shrugged.

_I don't focus on what I cannot do, and rather choose to simply think about what I can do. As soon as you stop focusing on your limitations, the possibilities begin to open up a bit._

Dean stared at her. The answer was incredibly simple, but brimming over with profound thought. She had obviously had a lot of time to think about this, and he said so.

The corner of her lips pulled up almost into a smile.

Dean's gaze dropped to her waist. He blinked and frowned when he saw a black cord fastened around it and hanging from it was a slim gold sheath in which a graceful elegant blade was encased. Dean's brow furrowed. Where had he seen that before? The color gold was striking a memory inside him. Then he glanced down at her dress and noticed that it was white.

And suddenly everything became clear.

A white figure diving into the pool and fighting off the monsters who had grasped ahold of him. The same white figure battling the massive carrier pigeon that Alastair had sent to find him, and now here she was right here in front of him.

_Are you alright? _Ariadne asked.

"It was you!" Dean exclaimed. Her brow furrowed, _I beg your pardon? _Dean barely noticed her confusion.

"You were the one who fought off the monsters in the pool and pulled me towards the surface, and you were the one who tried to buy me some time to escape when Alastair sent that bastard after me. And you followed me here."

A kaleidoscope of expressions crossed Ariadne's face. Fear, embarrassment, sadness and a curious emotion almost like relief.

_Yes, it was me, _she acknowledged.

"Why?"

It was then that she looked, at him, and this time really looked at him, almost as if she were seeing him for the first time.

_Because when I saw you in the forest, you had this look on your face. It was like you knew that you weren't supposed to be here, but were glad of it, because it meant that someone else wasn't. I knew right away that you sold your soul. Contrary to what you might think, there are not many here who have done that. In fact you are the first that I've met._

Dean stared at her. He wanted to say something deep in response, but all that came out was: "Is my face really that easy to read?"

Ariadne laughed, at least it felt like it. Through their mental connection it sounded like a musical vibration, and Dean had to fight the urge to scratch his temple. Although the sensation was really quite pleasant.

_You are easier to read then you might think, _she replied, _but then again, so am I. _

This time Dean did smile, and she returned it. He licked his lips, thinking further.

"But hold on, that doesn't explain why you can talk to me and I can respond, when all the others here can't."

Ariadne bit her lip. _The only explanation I can come up with, is the fact that I actually touched you. I've never done that before, and I guess it established some kind of connection. _

"So what? We now have this high frequency mental telepathy thing going?" Dean asked, feeling a little confused. Ariadne cocked her head to one side.

_All I know is that I can talk to you and you can respond. Do you know how relieving that is? For five hundred years, Lucifer was the only one that I could converse with._

Then she visibly flinched as if she had revealed too much. Dean frowned. "What are you talking about?" Ariadne waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

_That's a story for another time, all you really need to know is that he personally oversaw my torture. _

Dean hissed, sucking in a breath. He hadn't known her for very long and already he felt protective of her. Wasn't that ironic considering he was the one in chains?

Ariadne was meanwhile looking anywhere but at him. Her gaze had wandered around Dean's little prison yard and the view outside of it towards the wood where she was hiding. The light was continuously rising in the sky, which made her realize that they only had a few hours left. She swallowed hard, trying to contain the panic she suddenly felt.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked frowning at her. She wanted to sigh, but resisted the urge knowing he would sense it. Damn her face that could be easily read!

_I'm fine, _she said and he knew she was lying but decided not to press the issue further, if she wanted to tell him then she would.

"So what was it like, being a princess in Greece?" He asked. Ariadne scrunched up her face as if she were thinking and Dean wanted to laugh. She looked unbelievably cute when she did that.

_I didn't really know any differently so it wasn't as glamourous as you might think, _she said. _Being waited hand and foot can get a little boring after a while, and I wasn't really allowed to do anything outside of my uncle's consent. The only thing he did allow me to do was train. _

Dean frowned, "train for what?" he asked.

In answer to his question, Ariadne brought the blade hanging around her waist more clearly into view.

_What does this blade look like to you Dean? _She asked. Dean frowned looking it over. It appeared very familiar although he had never seen a gold blade before. The symbols and insignias carved into the sheath looked ancient, and yet vaguely familiar.

"It looks like a hunter's sword," he said finally

_Correct, _she replied. That took a minute to sink in. Dean felt his eyes widen.

"No freaking way….you were a hunter?!" A tiny smile pulled up the corner of Ariadne's lips. She nodded.

"But how? I mean no offense, but in our line of work, there aren't very many women, and you being a princess would make it even rarer," Dean said trying to process all of what she had said. Ariadne shrugged nonchalantly

_Back then it was a little more common. People were more superstitious, they prayed to many different pagan gods, and because of this increased belief there were more people who believed that society should be protected from all forms of the supernatural. People were making more deals with crossroads demons because the area surrounding Athens was very poor. My city actually had a secret society of demon hunters of which I was part of. _

"Really?" Dean felt like he had been saying that a lot lately.

_Yes, we fought together, hunted together, it was almost like a surrogate family. But not all of us were so lucky and right before Athens fell, I was the only one left. _Her features turned downward and Dean could see that this was a bit of a painful subject.

"What happened?" he asked, curiosity overriding his desire to give her privacy. Ariadne sighed but this time she took an intake of breath.

_Another time, but there was a battle, and Athens was taken by demons. That's one of the reasons I died._

Dean frowned again, he was dying of curiosity but decided that if she didn't want to talk about it, then he wouldn't press her.

They were quiet for a moment, in which Ariadne began to hum. Dean listened for a moment and then his eyes narrowed.

"What are you humming?" he asked. Ariadne stopped and looked him carefully. _It's a lullaby, _she replied. Dean bit his lip, thinking.

"It just sounds really familiar," he mused. If he had been looking at her, he would have seen her features freeze for a nanosecond. Then she changed the subject.

_I sincerely hope they don't do this to you again, _she said. As she said this, she reached out and put a hand on his chest. Dean flinched again, wondering how the hell someone's hands could be so cold.

"Yeah, I can't say that the rats were the highlight of my trip either," he said weakly attempting for some humor. "They won't do it again will they?"

Ariadne bit her lip, thinking. _I don't think so, usually one trip down there is enough to ensure submission, and any more than that, the prisoner's mind could break and they might lose control of it, which in Alastair's sick twisted mind is not preferable at all. _

"Well the last thing that I want to do is give him what he wants," Dean muttered. "Is there any way I can fight him off?"

_Physically? No, he'll have his way with you eventually, whether you want it or not, _she said. Dean cringed. "Can you please not say it like that?" Ariadne frowned.

_Say it like what? _Dean waved his hand dismissively, "Never mind. So what do I do?"

Ariadne ran a hand through her hair. _As much as I wish I could give you a simple answer, there really isn't one. Your mind is really the last sanctuary you possess, so it must be guarded with all haste. Something I try and focus on is a brick wall. _

Dean frowned as if he had heard her correctly, "I beg your pardon?"

Ariadne sighed. _When I was under Lucifer's…..surveillance, my mind was the one place where he couldn't torture me. So for five hundred years, I focused on placing a mental brick wall around my mind. I thought about it in detail, what it would look like, what color it was, what material I used, and so on. After some time, I had an impenetrable wall, and all I had to do was think about it, and I was safe in my mind. _

"No offense, but that sounds a little complicated as well as time consuming," Dean said. Ariadne refolded her hands in her lap and eyed him carefully.

_Do you want to stay sane or not Dean?_

He couldn't argue with that.

"So tomorrow, I will be building a wall."

_Good._

"Can I ask you something else?" Dean inquired. She nodded.

_Of course._

"How did you escape Lucifer?" Ariadne bit her lip, and he could tell right away that this would be another long painful story.

_I'll explain that later, _she said. Dean sighed and glanced at the horizon that was steadily lighting up.

"Why do I feel like later is eons away?" he muttered, half to himself and half to her.

All of a sudden, a howl broke the quiet of hell, and both of them stiffened up like marionettes who'd just had their strings pulled tight.

Ariadne swore in Greek. Dean looked at her trying hard not to panic. He knew what was going to happen to him but the idea of her being there to see it was somewhat frightening. If whoever came for him saw her, she would be dragged back to Lucifer to be tortured, and he might never see her again.

"You should go," he said quietly. Ariadne looked at him as if he had grown two head.

_I'm not leaving you, _she said vehemently. Dean sighed and closed his eyes, she had just made this ten times harder.

"Look I wish to God you could stay too, but the last thing that I want is for them to catch you and that's the last thing that you want too. I might never see you again, and I have a feeling that I'm going to need you in order to stay sane. Plus the torture that Lucifer has for you will be a whole hell of a lot worse than anything I get on the racks. So unless you have a way to save both of us from being dragged there, I want you to get out of here right now."

He had a hard time believing this was coming out of his mouth, that he was voluntarily asking to be left alone again, something that he hated. But this was more important.

"Just promise me that you'll come back," he said as she slowly got to her feet. The howls began to grow louder.

_I'll….I'll try._

For the first time since they started talking she sounded almost vulnerable.  
>"Hey," Dean reached out and took her hand as she moved away. She looked back at him.<p>

"I'll be alright," he said. He was lying and they both knew it, but neither of them debated it. Ariadne swallowed hard and nodded.

Then she dashed away almost faster than Dean could follow for the shelter of the wood. She glanced back one more time when she reached it, and Dean memorized that look in his mind so he could remember it for later.

Screw building a wall, her eyes would be the best defense he would need.

Ω

**sorry, this isn't an update, I noticed a few errors in the dialogue I wanted to fix, the next chapter will be out soon, please let me know what you think of Dean and Ariadne everyone. Happy reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Torment of Prometheus

_"__When you are guilty, it is not your sins you hate….but yourself." – Anthony de Mello_

Ariadne watched until the hellhound that had been sent to bear Dean away to the rack was out of sight. She shuddered as the last remnants of it disappeared over the top of the nearest hill, and she was left alone in the silence.

Of course, she had always been alone, and not only physically. Her family had often told her that she was the only known Nephilim in all of existence, and to be what she was, was both a great blessing and a terrible burden. She had believed it because experience had proven them right.

Her mother had often said that for an angel to create a child with a human was the greatest of all sins and taboos, and that the angel of heaven would cast out of it for its infidelity to purity and to God.

But if that were true, then why was it that she had never known her father? Why was it that her uncle had seen it fit to take her from her mother moments after her birth, and rarely if ever allow the two to be together? Why hadn't her father intervened? Did that therefore mean that he had returned to heaven? And if so, would that mean that everything she had been told about heaven and angels was a lie? Were they actually no different than humans, and how did Ariadne differ from all of them?

Her uncle had never been able to answer those questions and he had never let her see her mother often enough to ask. When she had become older, he had said that it was to keep the two of them safe from those that might try to kill them due to their relationship with an angel.

But she knew better. It was because her mother was royalty, and for an unmarried royal woman to bear a child out of wedlock was an enormous disgrace. Her uncle would never have thrown her out onto the street or tried to kill Ariadne for fear of offending her father and risking the wrath of heaven, but he also could not risk royal reputation by allowing her mother to keep Ariadne close. So as soon as possible, he had married her mother off to a distant noblemen of Sparta to secure an alliance against an invasion of Persians, claimed Ariadne as his own child and mixed her in with her cousins.

Being female, she would never have a stake in royal heritage, but he couldn't simply disown her. The idea had been to marry her off quickly when she reached a suitable age.

But then Athens had been taken by demons, and Ariadne had been killed.

Death did have an irritating way of making an already complicated situation even more complex didn't it?

It was made even more bitterly ironic because of the fact that all members of her family were dead as well. Her uncle, for all his good intentions, had achieved the exact opposite. Prosperity turned to disaster and Athens had fallen to abominations, and finally to ruin.

Lucifer had said as much to her when she was under his…..surveillance for five hundred years. The things he had done to her….the thing he had _said._

She pressed her fingers to her temples trying to forcibly remove all remnants of that horrible time from her mind. A few deep breaths helped as well. She had to remind herself that she wasn't alone anymore, Dean was there.

Well…..he wasn't exactly there. But she also wasn't in isolation. It had been so relieving to have been able to finally talk to someone and to have them be able to respond.

She had grown exhausted of her own voice after a while. And Dean's was much more interesting anyway.

Ariadne cringed when she wondered what they might be doing to him. Biting her lower lip, she stood up and began to pace. She was contemplating an idea that had been gathering momentum in her mind since she had seen Alastair return to retrieve Dean some time ago. It was a scary one, it would pain her, cause Dean grief if he found out and spell disaster if she was caught. But she couldn't just sit here, it was almost worse than waiting.

It was just like the times when her uncle and older male cousins would sail away to war and they would always tell her the exact same thing: _Look after the children, protect the kingdom, and above all else do not do anything foolish. _

Ha! Look where she was now. And she had accomplished that by doing everything that they had told her not to do.

The irony.

Her one job had been to look after the children of her uncle's other wives. They were timid women and had always kept out of her way. Ariadne harbored the feeling that they didn't entirely trust her. None of them knew what she was, given the well placed trickery and ruses of her uncle, but she knew they could tell that she wasn't normal.

_Enough thinking!_ She wanted to scream, _what are you going to do?! _

Simple….the exact opposite of what Dean asked her to do.

Ω

What he had thought earlier, about that day being the same as any other day? Yeah….that was a load of bull.

There was no such thing as normal in Hell. Well he supposed if every day consisted of you being torn limb from limb by ravenous dogs then it could be considered normal.

Dean sucked air through his teeth as the demon slowly and painstakingly put him back together again. The reassembling process was almost worse than the demolition simply because tearing him apart took a matter of seconds, putting him back together took an inordinate amount of time as every muscle had to be reattached, every nerve re-connected so it was possible for him to feel the pain again, otherwise that would defeat the purpose of torture. Every joint had to be returned to its socket, otherwise he would just lie and there and heaven forbid that wouldn't be fun for the demons who had him for their wounded gazelle.

Heaven forbid…that was an interesting choice of words.

Dean was now surer than ever that even the concept of a heaven was something theologians had pulled out of their asses to make weak people feel comforted. As far as he was concerned, there was only one constant.

And that was the pain.

He took a deep shuddering breath and braced himself for another round. It never worked, each time was more agonizing then the last. And any notion he had to think about something else was immediately driven from his mind by the searing notion of his muscles being torn for the millionth time.

Ω

After ensuring that she was no more than a grey mist floating across the ground, Ariadne stepped out of the woods and moved like lightning in the direction the hellhound had gone in.

As she drew nearer to the racks and the screams became more evident, she began to tremble slightly. The pain and heaviness in her muscles began to get steadily worse. Just a parting gift from dear Lucifer.

By the time she reached the top of the hill, leading down into the valleys and fields of Gahanna, Ariadne was trembling and barely managing to stay on her feet. It wasn't so much the fear although it was a little bit of that certainly, but because of the restrictions Lucifer had placed on her and that was putting it lightly, whenever she came too near to a soul being tortured, she was forced to feel what they were feeling for as long as she was near them.

When she had removed Dean's pain earlier, she had been forced to take on all that he was feeling and the pain that came with it. But it had been the easiest choice she had ever made.

Willing her brain to focus, Ariadne looked down into the valley. Her muscles were screaming in agony as a soul nearest to her was torn apart by a hellhound. Miles upon miles of racks stretched out before her. She wondered with despair how on earth she would ever find him.

Suddenly she heard a familiar voice cry out in terror and pain somewhere off to her left. She ignored her screaming muscles and whirled in that direction.

Gripping the hilt of her sword for all she was worth, Ariadne descended into the valley.

Ω

Ok….this was new.

After a short time of being a hellhound's chew toy, Dean was surprised to see that he was being moved to another location. Well….he would have been surprised if he hadn't been so tired and in pain and ready to pass out.

The next thing that he knew he was lying flat on his back staring at the sky. He felt a tugging sensation around his wrists and ankles and then a piercing pain, similar to the teeth of the rats plunged through both of his wrists and he let out a howl that was louder than any he thought he was capable of emitting.  
>The next second later, Dean felt his sense of vertigo spike along with his nausea and he had to swallow hard to block out both the pain and the sick feeling in his gut, when he felt the blood rush to his head.<br>What the hell is going on? He thought. He saw the hideous looking demon lean over him, a permanent leer on its face.  
>It was somewhat difficult to describe what this one looked like in relation to the others but hell seemed to throw everything into vivid perspective. It was like Dean's whole life had been spent looking through a dirty window which blurred and blocked out all the bad from being fully seen, but now that life as he knew it was over, the screen and the glass on the window had been removed and he had been to thrust head first through it, into a world of monsters.<br>For a moment, Dean and the demon just stared each other down, each sizing the other up. This spawn in hell, looked like it just been rolled in ash. It's skin was literally blackened to char but there were cracks all along its body so Dean could see the red lines of skin underneath. It reminded him of a body that had been burned beyond recognition, and had somehow come back to life, but retained the burned state.  
>Dead man walking basically. Dean was struck by the irony.<br>However, the satire of his situation faded, when the black eyed black skinned demon produced two items from behind its back. A hammer and a nail.  
>Dean hissed and cringed away from the instruments, even though he couldn't move far because his hands were restrained.<br>As if it hadn't even noticed the shift in its prisoner's countenance, the demon reached out a talon, for it was a talon, and placed the nail directly on his captive's wrist. With horror, Dean realized what was coming.  
>"Keep...very...still," the demon rasped, and Dean cringed at the sound of its voice. It was amazing how different these demons were from the ones up top. But he was slowly beginning to realize that these were different types of demons from the ones up top. These were like the grunts of the entire hierarchy. They handled the menial and messy chores that none of the other demons were supposed to do.<br>The hammer began to descend and no amount of bracing prepared Dean for the explosion of pain that arced up his arms and down his spine into his core.  
>He screamed...he couldn't help it. Tears of pain squeezed from his eyes despite his best efforts, and the demon cackled deep in its throat.<p>

What did it feel like? Its rather hard to describe. Imagine that you are lying stationary on a bed of nails, it's uncomfortable and you'll probably have bruises but it's not painful.

Then imagine a slight pressure, and you look up to see one of the nails has just been driven through your wrist.

How would you feel?

Because how you would imagine it, is exactly how Dean felt.

The demon took a walk down to the base of the wheel. From behind its back it produced two more items. They looked like the same nails it had driven into his wrists a few seconds earlier. They were a blinding silver, so polished that Dean couldn't look at them without feeling a sharp stabbing sensation in his temples.

"What…..what are you doing?" he said, gasping from the pain in his wrist. The demon didn't answer.

Instead, it brought the nails into closer view. On a further inspection they looked more like talons pulled from some kind of prehistoric carnivorous bird. The hell spawn held stiletto blades carefully between two fingers on each hand as if they were paintbrushes instead of instruments of torture.

Then it reached out and lifted the torn hem of Dean's shirt exposing the skin of his abdomen underneath.

"What are you going to do?" Dean as fear making his voice break slightly. But again, the demon didn't answer.

As soon as it had a clear patch of skin to work with, it brought the silver stakes forward and pressed them side by side to Dean's stomach. As soon as the metal made connection with his skin, he gasped. It felt like a veritable serum had been injected into each muscle, paralyzing him. Then the electric shocks began. Dean slowly began to think that this must be a taste of what an epileptic might feel like when having a seizure. He was jumping and writhing about like a worm on a hook, a morbid thought given that he was impaled through the arm on a metal stake.

All of a sudden, the electric contractions ceased, and Dean was left gasping on top of the wooden wheel like he had been underwater for a while and had just been yanked out.

The demon was still pressing the stilettos to his skin. But then, ever so slowly, it began to pull them apart.

Stretching Dean's skin with it. At first it was uncomfortable, then it became painful and after that there wasn't really a word to describe what he was feeling.

It was a little different when hellhounds went at him. At least it was over quickly, he passed out before the tearing could really get bad. But this?

Dean felt as if he were a patient under surgery being performed by a mad doctor without anesthesia.

The stretching continued, and Dean squeezed his eyes and lips shut as screams and howls of pain were reduced to moans and stifled yells. The searing continued…

The he heard it.

The sound of his skin tearing. Tearing skin isn't supposed to have a sound because its not meant to rip. It's not brittle and dry like paper. It's dense and soft.

So at first Dean didn't know what the sound was. The auditory noises it made were unlike any he had ever heard before. There was a wet splitting sound almost like when Velcro is pulled apart, except this was quieter and deeper in tone then that.

Dean was so horrified at the noise that he forgot the pain that swiftly followed for a few seconds.

He raised his head, just high enough to see what the demon and done and immediately wished he hadn't.

There was a jagged torn hole in his abdomen about seven inches long. He could barely see anything aside from the blood spurting out of it, but when he squinted he saw that through his skin, underneath all the vivid reds and the whites of bones, and the pale blues of veins and the soft pinks of muscles, there was a wet purple surface emerging. It appeared to be some kind of vital organ, but at the moment he couldn't remember which one.

It then dawned on him that he was looking at a part of his anatomy that shouldn't be showing. Bile began to rise in his throat and in trying to swallow it, he choked and started to gag.

For the next minute, he was preoccupied with trying to both swallow and breathe against the burning sulfur in his windpipe.

Finally, the pain came. Dean fell back onto the wooden surface, back arching eyes closed as a howl of torment escaped his lips.

He was stopped from thrashing about however when the demon raised the metal stakes high and stabbed them into his skin on either side of the hole in his stomach so as to hold the incision open.

Dean screamed again, but this time it came out as a harsh strangled cry because his vocal chords were shot from all the yelling he had done previously. He barely saw the two stakes sticking up from his middle like a morbid pair of goal posts.

The demon reached down and patted the jagged area it had torn open like it was pleased with its work.

"Easy…access," it rasped

Then the demon bent down and retrieved the hammer that it had dropped to the ground. For some reason, it was now dripping with blood and seemed even larger than before. The metal filings in it appeared even sharper than before.

It reached into a small pouch hanging about its waist and produced a smaller shorter nail unlike the two sticking out of his stomach.

This one looked kind of like the one embedded in his wrist, the wrist that was flung out the side and pinned down. He was spread out like a gingerbread man waiting to be cut out.

An interesting choice of words.  
>It moved around to his other side where his left arm was similarly arranged and raised the mallet again.<br>"Please...please...no more," Dean forced out from between his battered and bloodied lips.  
>Of course no one paid attention...no one ever paid attention. And Dean was left to spin on a wooden wheel beneath a crimson burning sky, while a demon drove stakes into his body.<p>

Ω

The screams...oh Theos, the screams...  
>Ariadne had forgotten how loud they were, of course she would never be used to it. How does one become accustomed to the sounds of suffering?<br>She felt like they would tear her apart as she moved past the racks. She was a mist, no one paid any attention to her, but that afforded her too much time to pay attention to everyone else.  
>All of a sudden, she saw something that brought her up short.<br>There was a pen, about one hundred yards off, right at the base of the nearest ash grey hill. It was a corral, like the one they had for keeping animals back in Greece. Except this time, the souls were serving as the animals.  
>Ariadne, swallowed her nausea and drifted closer. Her horror was overshadowing the pain she was feeling as the volume of souls increased.<br>Slowly, moving with extreme trepidation, she drifted closer, watching appalled as every few minutes a door in the pen was opened and the souls ran screaming through, each hoping for some crazy chance at escape.  
>The demons would run after them, hideous looking things brandishing whips with steel and glass fragments embedded in the ropes. They had deadly aim and with each snap of the whip, another back was torn open and another soul fell screaming its body trampled beneath the others feet.<br>Ariadne's blood began to boil it literally felt as if a fire was coursing through her veins, but it wasn't pain she was feeling...it was rage. It writhed and twisted throughout her body until she felt like it would tear her apart.  
>She barely realized what she was doing, but it didn't matter anymore, for the next few moments she forgot her fear. She didn't run, didn't even hurry. Instead she picked up her skirts and walked, still enshrouded in the mist she had created over to the nearest demon who was whipping a soul bloody. It was crying out for mercy, and Ariadne felt her rage reach a ferocious crescendo.<br>When she came next to it, she simply reached out a hand and touched her index finger to its head. The only thing in her mind was..._I want you to disappear._  
>It should have astonished her when the demon dropped its whip and fell writhing in pain to the ground. Ariadne watched as it rolled around for a few seconds convulsing and then the object of her desire happened. The demon simply disappeared in a cloud of ash.<br>She nodded her head as if to say, that's that, and then looked up to see the rest of the carnage. One should not make the mistake of thinking that her rage had abated. If anything it had only gotten more acute.  
>Ariadne calmly walked throughout the crowd of screaming souls, not even feeling pain anymore. Whenever she saw a demon, she simply walked toward him and touched him on the forehead. The same thing happened as before. It immediately dropped to the ground wriggling in pain and disappeared in a cloud of ash a few seconds later.<br>She moved quickly, but frantically knowing that for these few brief moments, she held the power. No one knew she was there, no one saw her, she was an angel of justice moving among the evil and dispensing vengeance.  
>Finally there were no more demons left. Ariadne looked up and realized that the souls had disappeared. The screaming had faded away, and the whole area around her was curiously quiet.<br>None of the demons from the rack a few hundred years away had noticed the curious silence and inactivity, but she knew soon they would.  
>All of a sudden, she felt an enormous draw on her strength, the edges of her vision darkened and she almost collapsed. Ariadne blinked, willing the strength to come back into her muscles. A few deep breaths later and the shaking evened out.<br>She knew she had better leave before any attention was sent this way. The pain in her muscles had abated somewhat because the agony the souls had cast was gone. Ariadne straightened up and rolled her shoulders before picking up her skirts and dashing up the next hill to the summit.  
><em>I'm coming Dean.<em>

Ω

The world was spinning.  
>After a while Dean stopped trying to adjust to the constant shifting of perspective. He just closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else.<br>Yeah...good luck with that.  
>After making sure that he was properly skewered like a piece of meat waiting to be smoked by the butcher, the demon had simply turned and left. Dean had called out after it, actually make that whispered after it.<p>

At the top of the hill, it turned around and looked at him. It didn't say anything, but it raised its arms towards the sky and made a sweeping gesture as if it were trying to open the heavens.

All of a sudden, the crimson clouds parted and a searing heat poured down onto Dean. It was as if the sun had been narrowed to a spotlight and was now concentrated on him. The heat became steadily worse, and he couldn't even look up to see were the light was coming from. As it was he barely was able to move his head.

He was just unable to do more. He had no idea which pain was worse, and he had long since given up caring.  
>But there was one thing that was almost worse than the pain.<br>It was the endless waiting. The infinite amount of time that passed between one torment to the next, was excruciating. He began to realize as he was lying there, turning like a pig on a spit, that this must have been part of their process. They devise the most horrific tortures possible and then leave the prisoner alone to considerable the options of what could possibly come next. He was convinced of it. That was why everyone was tortured in shifts.  
>His skin felt wet and he knew it wasn't just sweat that was sliding down his back across his arms and off his fingers. It was warm and sticky and smelled strangely of rust and salt. It was bitter and the warm drafts of it drifted up his nasal passages and wafted down his throat almost causing Dean to gag. He had to close his eyes and calm himself down, because if he gave into that urge, he would choke and if he choked...<br>Yeah he didn't want to know what would happen. He had already kicked the bucket, so it wasn't like he could really die...but maybe there was another place where he would end up and that place might be even worse than here...  
>Great...along with the rest of his body, his head was now hurting.<br>Suddenly, there was a strange screeching sound. Dean jerked his neck before he realized it was one of the things that had been restrained and he had to lay back down choking.  
>Something was coming over the top of the hill directly in front of him. It was flying through the air at a constant speed. No, wait a minute, it wasn't an it, it was a multitude.<br>Dean squinted and he realized that a flock of birds was flying toward him. It was in a V formation just like regular birds...but these sure as hell weren't regular birds. They almost looked like crows, yet as they got closer, they fragmented off into individual formations but still kept swooping toward him.  
>Dean felt himself go completely still as he watched them, his gut clenching up into a fist and banging against the inside of his body like a boxer gone mental.<br>When they were only about twenty feet away, Dean was able to get a better look at them.  
>Demon birds...that was the only way to describe them. Each one was obsidian black and each feather was glossy as if they had been rubbed down with grease before taking flight. Their beaks were the same color as their bodies, but curved, shiny and razor sharp. They had cruel beady black eyes as tiny as seed pearls, but even from a distance Dean could see that they were glittering with malice. And they were coming straight at him.<br>Oh no...  
>A story had come back to him, one that Sam mentioned, about Greek mythology. A mortal angering the gods to the point where they chained him to a rock and sent a raven to peck out his liver while he was still alive. Aside from the rats that was a god awful horrible way to die.<br>And it was about to happen to him.  
>The certainty of that thought crashed over Dean like a wave. He started jerking and wrenching on the ties that that bound him like a fish on a hook trying to get free.<br>"Get away...get away from me!" He tried to call out, but it came out as more of a burnt out rasp and he began coughing seconds after he uttered the words, his throat becoming slick with blood.  
>But as always, it didn't seem to have any effect. Every bastard here had a mind of its own. One of the birds in the lead landed about five feet from the wheel Dean was turning on. It cocked its head at him, and Dean was reminded of that ridiculous movie Finding Nemo when the seagulls looked at the fishes and asked, "Mine?"<br>Except this time the fish was Dean.  
>In that one simple gesture, they converged on him like a feeding frenzy. The whole flock of birds landed on him and he could feel their sharp beaks piercing his skin like so many hypodermic needles, pulling and tugging at it and...oh god, pulling things off it.<br>"No...no get off...get the hell off me!" His words fell upon deaf ears as the birds began pecking and tearing away at his skin.  
>"No!"<br>"Get away from me you bastards!"  
>"Oh please God, no more!"<br>"SAM!"

Ω

The sharp burst of energy that had enabled Ariadne to obliterate those demons earlier, had faded leaving her exhausted thirsty and in pain. It was requiring a considerable amount of effort to maintain the spell that was concealing her presence. With each step she took, it felt like shards of glass were cutting into her feet, and she had to fight the tears of pain that followed in quick succession.  
>Still, she kept on.<br>Dean had to be around there somewhere. As she climbed another hill, the screams of hell began to fade somewhat and she realized she was in the outermost rim of Gahanna. Slowly but surely the pain began to leave her, like water being funneled through a tube, but at last it vanished completely and she was able to stand up more fully instead of stooped in an attempt to block it out.  
>She took a deep breath, only the fatigue remained now, and that was something that she had practice in dealing with.<br>Finally, she reached the summit of the hill and gasped with relief when she saw that there was only one rack in the valley before her. Actually it was a wooden wheel that was turning slowly so as not to disturb the contents tied to it.  
>Ariadne felt a sick feeling in her stomach and lifted the hem of her skirt and hurried as quickly as she could down into the valley. As she neared it, her suspicion mounted to certainty, and then to horror.<br>A flock of birds was sitting on top of the turning wheel, and it appeared as if they were feeding on something. But these weren't just any kind of birds, these were ravens. The kind of crazed flight messengers that Lucifer sent throughout hell because he couldn't go himself.  
>They were called Prometheus's ravens, because they were the same breed of birds that had visited the Grecian at his chained rock and pecked out his liver while he was still alive.<br>Ariadne hadn't thought it was possible for her to feel ill, she hadn't eaten in so long, but bile began to rise in her throat as she approached the wheel. It disappeared soon after though when she saw the familiar locks of sandy brown hair, and the chiseled jawline that was impossible to mistake for anyone else's.  
>They were feeding on him.<br>The familiar rage came over her, and without even realizing what she was doing, in a wordless cry, she shot a bolt of hot white light at the scavengers. Her blood was boiling like a river during a flood, and Ariadne watched as the bolt engulfed the wheel and the crows vanished with a strangled squawk.  
>She blinked and suddenly there he was, lying restrained on the surface of the wheel. His face was splattered with blood and was tilted to one side facing her. His lower half was a mass of bloody flesh and torn ligaments. His eyes were closed so she couldn't see the vibrant green, but that didn't matter.<br>As soon as she saw his face Ariadne choked back a sob. She pressed a hand to her mouth so it wouldn't make a sound, and all that came out was a whimper, but it was a poor representation of the sorrow she was feeling.  
><em>Oh, Dean,<em> she murmured, _what have they done to you?_  
>She came nearer and without any fear or disgust, she placed her hands on his damaged abdomen and concentrated as hard as she could. A moment later, a searing agony stabbed through her gut as Dean's pain became her own. It coiled around her muscles and stripped them until they felt utterly raw and chafed against her skin and bones.<br>Ariadne allowed herself a few deep breaths to ward it off, but then she willed herself to focus on the task at hand.  
>She felt her hands begin to become hot and if she had opened her eyes and looked down she would have seen a strange glow emanating from them. The temperature began to drop slightly. It was a strange possibility to consider when one thinks of light, because you imagine it to be warm and comfortable.<br>But the moment she laid hands on Dean, Ariadne could feel the heat emitting from his pores from the temperature of hell, and she knew that a warm glow wouldn't benefit him.  
>Finally, she opened her eyes and was relieved to see that the jagged hole in his abdomen from where the birds had been in the process of pecking out his liver and had converged like winged jackals, had healed completely.<br>She cursed, this was another torture devised for important prisoners, odd when you consider that the one who made it so famous was so insignificant. Prometheus instead of being sentenced to that punishment by the gods, had been a murderer, so the vengeance had been just.  
>Suddenly she felt a great draw on her strength and this time, she wasn't paying attention to her balance.<br>Ariadne collapsed and lay panting on the ground as she tried to regain her breath and mobility. She felt the energy and vibration of the invisibility spell around her waver and for one terrifying moment, her hand became visible. Then the spell stabilized and she was hidden once more.  
>She lay there for a good half an hour, trying to get the air back into her lungs. It was all she could do, just lie there trying to breath. For a few minutes it felt as if she couldn't get enough oxygen in like her lungs like she could spend the rest of eternity breathing and it wouldn't be enough.<br>Ariadne had to physically remind herself not to panic, that it was only temporary. Sure enough a few seconds later, her lungs began to clear and the blockage in her windpipe dissipated. Another few minutes and she was able to raise herself back onto her knees.  
>Dean was still unconscious, but the color had come back to his cheeks and his breathing was more even. He wouldn't remain asleep for long.<br>Summoning her strength and her will, Ariadne forced herself to her feet and stumbled toward the front of the wheel where Dean's head rested. She dropped to her knees again and rested her forehead against the wooden wheel grateful that it was so low to the ground and she could lean against it while she regained her energy.  
>As she rested against it, she had to fight against her revulsion from the gruesome<br>torture that took place on this never ending circle of punishment. In bitter irony, this circle represented all of hell. A circle never ended, its curves never smoothed out, there was constant continuity.  
><em>Are you a philosopher Ariadne?<em> She asked herself. _Did you spend your life gazing at the stars? No, so do not mourn over what you cannot change. But don't despair, you are not alone anymore.  
><em> Carefully, almost timidly, she brought her hands up to rest on the outer rim of the wheel and slowly inched them along the wood until, they touched Dean's fingers. She didn't know if he could feel her touch or not, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was doing what little she could and that he was alright.  
>Reaching forward, Ariadne grasped his hands between hers and rested her forehead against the back of his head, still trying to regain control of her breathing. It was taking longer than it should've and it worried her, but then she had never tried to fight using her powers before, the sum of which she was still trying to understand.<br>Since her father had returned to heaven and her mother was no longer around to tell her what they meant, Ariadne had had to understand them herself. She still didn't fully understand.  
>But she had eternity to figure it out.<p>

Ω

It's strange the things that will pass through your mind when you're drifting in and out of consciousness, and Dean's thought processes were no different. It was almost like a collection of those home movies with the old video cameras that you film to document your kids' lives.  
>Except this one's images and flashes showcased the highlights of Dean's experience of hell, outlined with vivid blood reds shrieking bone whites and coal dead blacks. The three colors shaded the pictures of the demons and the very grains of the soil, the white of the rats teeth as they tore into his skin was more visible than any other image around it, and the red of soul blood as it dripped onto the soil illustrated a thousand lives spilt onto the ground.<br>Finally the face of Alastair appeared, his perfect white teeth twinkling, the black of his suit standing into stark contrast to the red of hell's floor and the bleakness of hell's sky.  
>His mouth opened and his lips formed a soundless laugh as he raised a bone white knife in the air and plunged it in a downward arc towards Dean's chest. Dean let out a scream of terror and rage and fear as his dream self knew that this was only one of many times that Alastair would do this.<br>Suddenly, right before the jagged edge of the knife touched his skin, the image changed. The blacks, whites and reds changed and morphed into deep browns and luminous golds.  
>Dream Dean blinked, trying to make out what he was seeing. Then the image pulled back and he realized he was looking into the face of a woman, a woman with beautiful brown eyes. She was dressed all in gold and there was a cold golden light about her. He didn't know how it was cold, but it felt cold. She stared at him unblinking and he found while it was hard to look at her, he didn't want to look away.<br>_Think on that no more,_ she said and he realized with shock that he was hearing her voice in his head.  
><em>Come back Dean...come back.<em>  
>And then all of a sudden, his eyes flew open and he gasped for air. Instinct led his muscles to attempt to rise but he found himself restrained and he fell back onto a hard surface with a grunt.<br>Where the hell was he?  
>And then he remembered the crows and had to brace himself for the pain which he felt was surely the reason that he was awake.<br>But instead of feeling pain, a wonderful cool breeze drifted across his whole body, lowering his temperature exponentially and inadvertently uncoiling the tension in each muscle.  
>Dean felt his chest begin to rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He expected the cool to be only momentary. But instead it continued, and the oddest part was that it seemed to be stemming out from his hands.<br>The cool seeped through his pores and down through his ligaments curling around his muscles and revitalizing them, and finally diving into his blood stream and slowing down the racing in his veins.  
>Dean gasped, more from surprise than anything else. Even his fatigue had vanished. He blinked and raised himself up enough to look down at his abdomen.<br>It was completely healed. His shirt which had been pulled up some by the birds was still covered in blood, but the skin underneath was whole and untouched.  
>What kind of sick twisted joke were they playing this time?<br>He had lost track of the time since that burned bastard had left. Hours? Days maybe?  
>It was just like when he had been hanging from those meat hooks in Hell's waiting room, waiting to drop into the pressure cooker that was Gahanna.<br>Dean frowned when he realized the cool breeze drifting along his feverish skin hadn't ceased. It was comforting...  
>That's when he knew...this wasn't the work of any demon. In fact the coolness was almost like a hand holding his, like icy cold fingers were grasping his own. But it wasn't at all unpleasant, in fact it reminded him of Ariadne's touch on his skin when she had healed him the other time.<br>Ariadne.  
>A cold fear knotted in his gut, but it wasn't for himself. Somehow she had found him. He didn't know why or how...but she was there.<br>"Ariadne?" He whispered hoarsely through chapped lips. There wasn't an answer but he didn't expect one.  
>"Where are you...I can't see you...but I know you're there..." His voice trailed off as he tried to turn and hissed in pain when his muscles howled in protest.<br>_Don't move,_ said a soft voice.  
>At the sound of her musical voice dancing along their mental connection, Dean felt himself go limp. He didn't know what to feel or what to think, because he knew that he was awake and intact because of her. In truth, there was nothing that he could say, or even wanted to say. But the words spilled out anyway.<br>"What the hell are you doing here?" He hissed, "I wanted you to stay hidden, what if they catch you?"  
><em>They won't,<em> came her calm answer.  
>"How do you know?" Dean asked skeptically.<br>The cold disappeared from one of his hands and instantly his skin began to heat again. He turned his head, and had just enough time to see the air ripple and she materialized in front of him. From this distance he could see every detail in her flawless face, down to the tiny freckle high on her cheekbone just above her left eye. He had to look closely to see it and it was almost amusing to see something so inherently...normal on her otherwise perfect skin.  
>"How...how did you do that?" Dean stammered. It looked like she had hidden herself with magic, but what kind he didn't know. She had already demonstrated the night before that she was powerful when she had healed him. He felt the familiar wariness begin to rise in his chest, but with an effort he pushed it back down. He knew she wasn't a demon, had seen the proof with his own eyes, but she obviously wasn't human either.<br>_Like I said earlier, it's a long story,_ she replied. Dean closed his eyes, more frustrated than anything else.  
>"Ari, if they catch you-"<br>_Ari?_ She asked cocking her head to one side. The nickname sounded perfect in her voice and Dean, despite everything he was feeling and thinking, felt his lips tug upwards ever so slightly.  
>"Yeah," he said, "I just...I mean...it sounded...I thought it would fit."<br>Why was he stammering? Here he was, tied to a wheel and had just had his guts ripped out by birds and then put back in by the woman sitting next to him, and he was fingering out how to speak.  
>He turned in time to see her eyes sparkle, she wasn't smiling but she conveyed a whole hell of a lot with her eyes.<br>_ I like it,_ she mused, half to herself and half to him.  
>Dean shook his head, trying to get his focus back. It was amazing how not being in pain allowed you to think. He was still in an extreme amount of discomfort, still covered in blood, but no longer in pain.<br>"How did you find me?" He asked finally. Ariadne shifted her position.  
>Up until that point, she was been sitting on the ground with her legs tucked underneath her, dress spread over them. The wheel he was tied to was quite close to the ground, enough that she could sit down and rest against it without having to reach up too high.<br>It was then that he noticed how tired she looked. It was difficult to see, seeing as how that ethereal beauty covered most of her blemishes, but there were faint dark circles under her eyes and as she brought her hands up, he could see they were trembling slightly, she absently pressed one of them to her abdomen as if she were experiencing extreme cramping and Dean frowned.  
>"You ok? You look like you're in pain," Ariadne gave a half smile and ducked her head as if she was surprised and almost shy.<br>_You're the one who is tied to the rakes and have been driven through with metal stakes and you want to know if I'm alright?  
><em> Dean shrugged, not really understanding her tone. It was just something he grown accustomed to doing. He had practically raised Sam and even if Dean was on his deathbed, he would ask if his little brother was alright.  
>He cringed, as an unbidden memory of Sam slipped to the forefront of his mind.<br>_You're not in pain are you? _Ariadne asked sounding a little concerned. Dean shook his head.  
>"How did you find me Ari?" He asked, his voice sounding hoarse as he tried to force back memories of Sam.<br>_I looked,_ she replied simply. It was such an unexpected answer that Dean almost wanted to laugh...almost.  
>"What I mean is...why?" He asked as he strained around to look at her. An odd look came over her face, it was almost like surprise mixed with sorrow, as if the answer was clear to her and she was amazed that he couldn't see it.<br>_You can't ask me to hide and simply stand by while you suffer,_ she sounded indignant.  
>"That's exactly what I'm asking you to do," Dean replied just as adamantly. He turned his face toward the sky so he wouldn't lose focus. It was really hard to concentrate when he was looking into her face.<br>"The last thing I want is for Alastair to come back and find you. The bastard comes to me every night and I-"  
>He stopped short when he realized what he had said. Alastair, right before sun down in hell, visited him to make him an offer.<br>To take him off the rack, if he would put souls on. Every night, Dean told him to stick it where the sun shines, but every night, it would get a little bit harder.  
>They were so freaking...inventive with what they chose to subject him to that Dean wondered how much imagination demons had, because if they kept up this level of torture...he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold out.<br>And if he couldn't hold out...they would win.  
><em>Dean?<em> Ariadne asked and he blinked, coming back to himself.  
><em>What does Alastair tell you? <em>She asked. Her eyes were narrowed in focus and Dean had to force himself to look away again. He knew if he looked in her eyes, he would spill his guts and that just wasn't Dean Winchester's style. Well at least it hadn't been. But he also knew that if he told her, she would try and do something about it, and god help what would happen then.  
>"Nothing it's not important," he said quickly, realizing he had stalled for probably too long. The long silence through their mental connection told him she wasn't buying of word of his bull. But he didn't care. The thought of her facing down Alastair, the most powerful demon in hell, was enough to twist his already torn up insides into knots. So he decided to change the subject.<br>"I didn't want you to see me like this," Dean said gruffly, he had hoped to keep her away from Gahanna indefinitely. But he knew that wasn't going to work.  
><em> I told you before, I'm not leaving you. I have been here for a long time, I know something of what to expect. You do not. I am not letting you go through this darkness alone.<em>  
>Despite their tense situation Dean felt a warm feeling come over him. He didn't know what it was and in made him uncomfortable even though he kind of liked it.<br>"Really?" He asked a little skeptically.  
>Ariadne reached out and took his hand causing the familiar freezing shards of ice to race through his veins, but he didn't pull away, one reason because he physically couldn't and the second reason because he didn't want to, and he took it one step further by threading his fingers through hers. She pierced him through with those brown eyes of hers.<br>_I promise._

Ω

_At least let me try and untie you,_ Ariadne offered a little while later She hated seeing him like that, spread out and waiting to be carved up like the prize animal for a feast. Dean had seemed content to just lie there. He looked far from relaxed and his face was beginning to show the wear of fear and sorrow from the deepening lines in his face, that every other soul had, but at least he didn't look like he was in agony any more  
>Dean rapidly shook his head. "No don't, what if that bastard comes back and sees you? Or what if it sees me sitting up? And maybe you should do your mojo thing and hide yourself again, just in case."<br>_ My mojo thing?_ She asked looking very confused, then she shook her head, _you worry too much Dean.  
><em> Dean huffed.  
>"Oh that's right Ari, I forgot that we were only in hell, my bad," he said his tone dripping with sarcasm.<br>Ariadne reached out and laid a gentle hand on his leg. She could immediately tell that he was cold, but he didn't flinch under her touch anymore.  
><em>I'm sorry Dean, you're right, I should be more careful.<em> With a flick of her wrist, she had vanished again, even though her posture didn't change.  
>Dean huffed, still not completely happy, but more satisfied.<br>_Although I have seen this torture performed before, and usually, it lasts for at least three days before they come back so we should be alright. They leave you out in the open for a while and allow the birds to feed on you._  
>Dean shuddered, still feeling like his skin was pierced by the sharp beaks of those winged bastards.<br>"Weren't they the birds sent to feed on some guy's liver a long time ago?" He asked absently.  
>Ariadne was a little surprised, but she didn't let it show on her face.<br>_Yes,_ she replied, _the man to whom it is named after, angered the gods, so they sentenced him to die by having him chained to a rock and sending a raven to peck out his liver, while he was still alive.  
><em> Dean suddenly looked ill, and Ariadne wished she hadn't said anything.  
>"At least I was out for most of it," he muttered half to himself and half out loud. Ariadne licked her lips and nodded.<br>She wasn't sure where she had sent the ravens when she had obliterated them, but she knew that she couldn't permanently kill a being here. It was Hell, everything here was already dead, they would be back.  
>Ariadne settled herself more comfortably on the ground by the wheel, she glanced down at her sword,<br>"Ari, how did you get here?" Deans asked suddenly and her eyes shot up to meet his. He was looking into her face with sincerity, his head still tilted sideways from where he was lying. They were sitting so close their noses were almost touching.  
><em> The same way you did,<em> she replied, _I sold my soul._  
>Dean flinched, for two reasons, one for the reminder of what he had done to save his brother, and two for what she had done to save someone else.<br>"Who was it for?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer, but dying to know more about her none the less.  
><em>My mother,<em> she replied calmly, although there was an odd glimmer in her eyes which was as close to grief as he had seen.  
><em>It really didn't make much of a difference,<em> she murmured and she was surprised to see that she still wanted to talk, was getting dangerously close to telling him about the night she died. Something she hadn't talked about ever.  
><em>She died anyway.<em> Ariadne saw him wince in sympathy.  
>"Did her death have something to do with when Athens was destroyed?" Dean asked carefully. He didn't want to push her, but it was so nice to take his mind off the future.<br>Ariadne nodded.  
>"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said gently. Ariadne shook her head.<br>_ I both want to and do not want to, but I will make you a promise Dean Winchester ...I will tell you all about myself...if and when you decide to tell me who Sam is.  
><em> Dean stiffened up like a board, it was almost as if she had dumped cold water on him because he went perfectly still.  
>Ariadne bit her lip, afraid she had crossed a line, she was suddenly very grateful that he couldn't see her. Their connection was such that she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn't hurt her, but she was also well aware, that Dean Winchester was not someone to make an enemy of.<br>_Neither are you,_ she thought to herself.  
>"How did you find out about Sam?" He asked quietly. She couldn't tell whether he was angry or afraid but she decided she was going to be truthful.<br>_The other time when you were sleeping, you kept murmuring the name Sam over and over, it was a little difficult not to hear.  
><em> Dean visibly relaxed. She didn't know why the name seemed to raise his hackles. Then she knew.  
>This was obviously the person he had sold his soul for, no wonder it was a sore spot. She was about to tell him not to worry when he spoke again.<br>"He's my brother," it was so low she could hardly hear him. "Sam's my little brother, he died and I sold my soul to bring him back."  
>He said it matter of fact, each word dropping from his mouth like bars of lead.<br>Ariadne felt her heart twist. He turned his head toward the sky, still flat on his back, refusing to look at her. Not that he really could, she was hidden from his sight.  
>She didn't say anything...there was nothing she could say. Instead, she made herself visible again and stared at the sky like he was doing.<br>She hated when people tried to analyze and quantify her emotions even when she was alive, and she could tell that Dean was the same way. But she found that just sitting there with the person did a lot more the words ever could.  
>Ariadne was surprised then, as she was looking up at the sky and watching the crimson clouds roll past, seeing the white lightning flash in it, when she felt Dean's hand wrap around hers again.<br>She glanced down at him. He still wasn't looking at her, but his expression had changed and she couldn't read it.  
>"You know, it's funny, Sam spent the last year I had with him, trying to find some way to get me out of the contract, but I sometimes wish we had just spent more time together instead."<br>Then he turned and looked at her.  
>"Did you get anytime with your mom before you headed down here Ari?" He asked. She gave him a sad smile and shook her head.<br>_Only the amount of time it takes to say goodbye,_ she replied softly. Dean looked at her for a long moment.  
>"It's never long enough is it?" He said, more fact then inquiry. She shook her head sorrowfully.<br>For the next few minutes they sat there together, hand in hand, not saying anything. Dean threaded his fingers through hers, and Ariadne tried not to focus on how nice his hand felt wrapped around hers. It was big enough that it swallowed her own, and pleasantly warm. It made her feel...safe. She hadn't felt safe for a very long time.  
>Yes indeed, Dean Winchester was no ordinary human being. He was so much more.<br>"How long do you think we have until that demon comes back?" Dean asked absently. Ariadne frowned.  
><em>We?<em> She asked.  
>"Yeah, well, it seems like I'm stuck with you for the next while, and if you develop a habit of not doing anything I ask you to do, then we may as well stick together so I can keep an eye on you. And if I have to be stuck with someone for eternity...then I'm glad it's you Ari."<br>A slight smile touched her lips.  
><em>I'm quite glad I'm stuck with you as well Dean Winchester,<em> she replied. Dean didn't reply, but tightened his grip on her hand slightly.  
>After that, neither of them said anything. Because there was nothing more to be said.<p>

The hunter and the princess simply sat looking at the sky and drinking in the time and silence they had managed to steal together. Both didn't want to think, being in the here and now was quite enough.

Ω

**Hey Everyone, I'm sorry this update took so long, I was experiencing some extreme writers block, but its passed now. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, please continue to do so. Also, be sure to let me know what you think of Ariadne, we get to see a little more of her past in this one, there will be more to come. I will try to have ,my chapters out faster, meanwhile, until then...Happy reading everyone!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Someone to Watch over Me

_"__More than half of our history is lost, not because we were not documented, but because we had no guardians and protectors." – M. _

Dean decided that there was no way he could possibly feel worse than he did already. He was still tied to the blasted wheel, still rotating under a severe heat, far worse than any blow the sun had dealt him when he was alive.

Alive…..it was strange even to think that word. He moved and felt and breathed and _hurt_ the same way he would if he were alive, but there was a curious dullness to the world around him, which was as nice a word as could describe the part of Gahanna where he was.

The only good thing about this situation was that Ari had stayed.

Ari….

Good god, what could he think about her? It's not like he expected to find some kind of ally, this was hell after all. But she was unlike anyone he had met before, in life or death. Kind of made him wonder as he lay suspended in midair, still flat on his back, how screwed up his life had been before that he had never seen a woman like her.

She hadn't let go of his hand, not that he wanted her to. Her touch had a way of easing the anxiousness in his spirit, it brought on a sort of mental amnesia, made him forget about anything outside of the two of them, and right now, forgetting was what he wanted most.

Dean didn't know how much time had passed since the demon with third degree burns had left, but Ari had said that it might be a matter of days before they returned for him. He was still sore, exhausted emotionally drained and extremely uncomfortable, but he would take all that over the pain of having ravens peck at his flesh any time.

Ari for her part had hid herself again. He'd insisted she stay out of sight, at least until he was brought back to his holding post. Honestly, he felt like a horse being chained and penned up all the time but that was probably their point. They wanted him to know that he was their animal, ready to be sliced and carved up for their pleasure for all of eternity.

He winced at the thought of eternity. There was going to be no end to this. Sam for all his bravado, didn't stand a chance of getting him out. No one had ever escaped from the pit before Ruby had said.

_Are you alright?_ Ariadne asked. Dean tensed slightly, remembering that even though he couldn't see her, the vice was not versa and he had to be careful. It's not like he wanted to hide anything from her. It would all come out in the open soon enough anyway, but he also didn't want to burden her with things that she didn't deserve. They both had their own baggage, but sharing it would just make the loads heavier.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he replied. Again more lies. They would both never be okay as long as they were here, but as long as they were in each other's company, lying saved them from having to admit that they were weak.

"You wanted to know about Sam," he said to her changing the subject. Instantly, she released the spell and was visible once more. Her beautiful face was serious, Dean could feel her concern drifting along their mental connection and he knew she was conveying that he didn't have to talk if he didn't want to. But strangely, he wanted to talk about Sam. His little brother had been the one good thing in his life that he could call his and talking about him made him seem more real, and this world a little more fictitious.

"I'd…..I'd kind of like to talk about him, maybe not all about him, but I can tell you a little."

_Whenever you want to then, _Ariadne replied softly. Dean took a minute. He had to clear his throat a few times before speaking, but he finally got the words out.

"Like I said before, Sam's my little brother." There was a long silence, and his eyes smarted as unbidden memories washed over him. Holding Sammy in his lap when he was a baby, the two of them fighting monsters together, and their encounter with Lilith.

_What is he like?_ Ariadne asked  
>Dean sucked in a breath as he thought about Sam. There was so much that he could say about him.<br>"Sam's a rebel, he never could follow orders without questioning them. It drove me and my dad nuts. But I guess that's what happened when he went off to college. He got smart and wondered why dad was constantly making all the rules. I couldn't tell him to do a simple thing without him asking why." Dean started to chuckle.  
>"We were so different we were constantly at each other's throats. But when push came to shove I knew that he had my back. He pulled my ass from the fire so many times. And right up until the end he kept trying to find a way to save me. That's one thing about Sammy. When he wants something, nothing is going to stop him from getting it. He said that there was nothing he wouldn't do for me."<br>Dean trailed off, lost in his memories.  
><em>I think you two are more alike than you realize,<em> Ariadne said thoughtfully. _You both would do anything for each other. Your being here proves it. I...I kind of wish I knew what that was like._  
>Dean gently squeezed her hand, and the two were silent for a little while. He had said all that he wanted to for right now, all that he physically could say and he got the feeling that she understood.<p>

"What about your family?" he asked. Ariadne licked her lips and stared up at the red sky over the fields of Gahanna for a few long minutes.

_I had no brothers and sisters. Many cousins, but no siblings to call my own. My mother was royalty but I was a surprise that she didn't count on._

Dean frowned, "What do you mean?"

_I was born out of wedlock Dean, my mother risked royal reputation by giving birth to me. Her father had just died and her older brother had taken the reins of the state, so he was furious when he found out. Fortunately he decided not to kill me to cover up for my mother's disgrace, but once I was born, he never allowed me to see her, married her off to another man and claimed me as one of his own children, so no one would ever know that I was a bastard child. _

Dean found himself feeling slightly indignant. His muscles tensed up and he winced as a wave of pain wracked his body from the awkward positioning.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but your uncle sounds like a dick," he said. Ariadne looked confused, but she waved her hand dismissively a moment later.

_No matter, it was a different time period, _she said. _My uncle knew that if my mother tried to rear me herself, questions would be raised about who my father was, and that was a subject that no one wanted to address because it was…..how would you call it? A one night stand. _

_My mother told me that he came as a stranger to our court, but that he was an excellent soldier and that my grandfather was so impressed with him that he put him on his council of advisors. It was then that he met my mother. But after one night in his bed, she became pregnant with me. My father left soon after that._

"He sounds kind of like a dick too," Dean said. He hoped Ari wouldn't be offended, but he couldn't help but be a little angry.

Ariadne was by far the most beautiful and compassionate woman he had ever met and in the space of a few days he knew that she was better than anyone he had met in life. Ironic that it took him having to die to meet her.

_Yes, well, at least my upbringing was somewhat decent. I wasn't abandoned or thrown onto the streets to fend for myself. My uncle knew my mother would never forgive him for that and he didn't really have it in him. So being called one of his own children really wasn't that bad. And as I grew older, we became closer._

Dean pursed his lips. "It still doesn't seem fair though, I mean, you didn't do anything. All you did was be born and already people are taking things from you."

He glanced around at their surroundings. The sky above them was red and thick with clouds. The ground beneath them was a harsh rust color and the ash grey hills in every direction seemed endless.

_I know it seems like that, but I am thankful for the time I did get to have with my mother, it wasn't all bad. You don't get to pick your family Dean, but you do have to live with them._

"So what happened to your dad?" Dean asked, feeling like he was about to walk into a minefield. He had thought his family was messed up, but Ari's family was something else altogether.

_No one knows, he disappeared soon after his encounter with my mother, no one ever saw him again._

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that he's the one who gave you these….powers or whatever," Dean said circling his hand in the air as he tried to think of an appropriate word.

Ariadne winced and he could tell that that was a sore spot.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said quickly. Ariadne gave him a small smile but didn't answer and Dean took that as all the explanation he would get for now. He knew that her powers had something to do with her father, and probably because of the fact that she was a hunter, but the last thing he wanted to do was pry. He hated when Sam did that, much less anyone else.

_Dammit, stop thinking about Sam!_

Ariadne had glanced at the sky, a frown coloring her features. Her fingers were still threaded through his so Dean didn't notice when she flinched.

_Someone's coming! _She hissed and before Dean could get a word out to ask who it might be, she had immediately vanished. He knew he was still there. He could feel her anger and concern drifting along their mental connection. Concern for him and anger at whoever was coming over the nearest ridge. She let go of his hand and moved away slightly. He knew why she did it and was glad for it, but he also felt the loss of her presence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a figure reach the top of the summit that led down into the valley and start to make its way down into it.

Knowing that he only had seconds to get the words out, Dean whispered fiercely, "Get out of here now, I don't care that you're invisible, they have a way of seeing everything down here. Just get somewhere safe, I'll see you again."

He could feel her disapproval emanating from their mental link, but he didn't care. The only thing worse than him being tortured, would be watching her dragged away and subjected to the same fate.

But he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her mental connection drift away until he was alone again.

Alone.

Dean shivered as he waited for the demon to come down into the valley and retrieve him. He really hoped they would just take him back to his cell. He had had enough body maiming to last a hundred years.

Ω

There was a large rock, about fifteen feet away from where Dean was lying chained to the wheel.

Ariadne hurried swiftly toward it and took up residence behind it. She knew Dean had wanted her to beat feet back to the wood, but like earlier, she didn't take orders very well. Although she also knew when to keep the peace and compromise.

She hunkered down behind the large rock and peered out at the approaching demon. She wasn't afraid of it. She had god knows how many during her lifetime. In fact there was a part of her that almost wanted the bastard to come near so she could kill it. This was hell it would only be reincarnated later, but at the moment, she just wanted to feel something sharp sink into flesh and know that she was killing something evil. It would be some compensation for the centuries she had spent with Lucifer.

Then she shook her head as she watched it untie Dean. There would be a time for that later. It put its fingers to its lips and whistled long and shrilly. Within seconds, a hellhound had appeared. After Dean was untied from the wheel, the hellhound reached down and wrapped its massive jaws around Dean's torso.

Ariadne sucked in a breath when she realized that he had gone completely limp, and for a second, she thought that he had been reinjured. But as the left the valley, she realized that Dean had only done that so he would appear wounded, so the demon wouldn't notice that he wasn't in fact injured. She had to suppress a small smile. Even down here, he managed to keep his wits about him. It was certainly admirable.

Ariadne pressed her hands against the rock and watched as the hellhound carried Dean over the hill and out of sight. Hopefully back towards his cell. He had suffered enough god knows. But hadn't they all suffered enough? Theos, she wouldn't wish this place on anyone. But here she was and here Dean was, and they were suffering together.

A sudden movement caught her eye and she realized that the burned demon in charge of torturing Dean was still standing by the wheel where he had been tied. It was holding what looked like a sheet of parchment in its hands, and assessing something on it. Ariadne felt herself grow tense. Could they tell that Dean had been healed? Would they drag him back here to finish the job?

But the demon simply walked around the wheel, retrieving the discarded metal stakes that had fallen to the ground after they had been used to pierce Dean through. They were still covered in gore and Ariadne cringed when she caught sight of it.

The demon pulled a dark cloth from the belt at its waist and carefully cleaned the stakes before returning them to the pouch hanging at his side.

_Of course, _Ariadne thought, _they wouldn't want their instruments of torture to get dirty now would they?_

She watched as the demon pocketed the metal stakes and then rubbed its hands together, as if cleaning them from a mess and walked with a slow halting gait towards the hill.

_There is no amount of washing that could clean the blood from your hands monster! I have seen you torture still pregnant women and children just out of their mother's wombs, you are beyond redemption and should not even exist!_

The force of her anger surprised her. She had thought it had all dried up after two thousand years, so when it came again, she forgot for a moment what the red hot searing in her veins was because it didn't pain her.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down, she leaned with her back against the rock and closed her eyes. She had a sudden insane urge to go after that demon and make him suffer for the way he had made Dean suffer, the same way she had made the other demons suffer today. It would be so easy…

But then she had to remind herself that if she did that, she would be walking a thin line. There wouldn't be much difference between what she was and what they were.

_Go after Dean, _she told herself. But deep down, she knew she couldn't do it just yet. There had to be a way of knowing what was planned for him.

And following that demon was the only way to find out.

_Have you taken leave of your senses?! _The rational part of her brain was screaming. _You want to cause yourself even more excruciating pain by going even deeper into Gahanna? Plus there is also the added danger that you'll be found again. Do you really want to stand before Lucifer again?_

The answer to all those questions was no. But something inside of her had changed the minute she looked Dean in the face. Ariadne just knew she could let him down. And the best way to find out what they might have planned for him and why Alastair was so desperate to break him. She knew it had something to do with the fact that he had been a hunter, but that wasn't much to go on. She needed to know more.

And the only way to accomplish that was to go to the source.

She felt the familiar panic begin to constrict the muscles in her throat as she processed what she had to do. With an effort she swallowed it.

Then….before she talked herself out of it, Ariadne got to her feet and hurried out of the valley after the demon, deeper into Gahanna.

Ω

Dean had never been so glad to be chained up.

To not be poked and prodded with metal stakes, not to be torn up by the sharp claws of birds beaks and not to be ripped open to have his liver removed piece by piece, to just sit here and be silent for a few minutes…..Dean could tell that this was the only kind of peace he would ever have for eternity.

He tried not to think about how truly depressing that was.

Alastair had conveyed his usual offer through the burnt bastard, and Dean almost wanted to laugh at the fact that the head demon was so utterly resourceful and yet so completely narcissistic. But he couldn't. He couldn't laugh anymore, could barely even smile. And the rare moments when he had been able to do that, Ari had always been the one to bring it on.

Ari….

That was the way it always was when he thought about her. Her name was always accompanied with a large blank. There were just really no way to describe her other than she was his only source of comfort. And if he tried to think of ways to describe her, all Dean ended up drawing was as said earlier, a blank, he simply lacked the words.

And speaking of Ari, where the hell was she? The last thing he wanted to do was be alone right now. It had been nice for all of a minute and then he had begun to wonder where she was. A sliver of anxiety wormed its way into his chest. He didn't know what she had done to offend Lucifer, and she seemed more then capable of taking care of herself, but that didn't mean that he wanted her to have to. He just hoped she was alright.

But in the meantime, the last thing he wanted to do was spend any more time thinking and so with that in mind, Dean decided to try sleeping again. It was best remedy he could think of so he wouldn't have to think.

He closed his eyes, listening for the howls that would seal his fate. But they never came and the last thing that the elder Winchester remembered was a warm merciful blackness enveloping him.  
>He didn't know how long he slept for, but as usual he was tortured by nightmares.<br>_He was in a windowless room that was completely bare of furniture. The floors were covered in dust which moved listlessly about his feet. Looking up, Dean could see that the walls were covered in writing. It was in a strange language that Dean couldn't decipher but somehow he could tell that he had been here before. He turned, during a slow 360. On the last corner, he observed a shadow, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw himself step out of it.  
>"Did you miss me?" His reflection asked. It moved farther out of the darkness and Dean saw with horror that his twin's eyes were obsidian black.<br>The alternate Dean stopped a few feet in front of him and regarded him with a smirk.  
>"I'll tell you this Dean, you've looked a lot better." Before he could stop himself, Dean glanced down and saw that he was still dressed in the same rags that he was wearing before he fell asleep. His hands were covered in bruises and he didn't have to see a mirror to see how his face looked.<br>"What do you want?" He managed to ask. The anti-Dean chuckled.  
>"Do you really need to ask? You can't ignore me forever, because I am you. I'm inside of you Dean, you can't erase a part of your mind. I'm always going to be here, and until you become me, I'm not gonna leave you alone."<br>Dean clenched his fists, "it's not going to happen," he muttered furiously. Ariadne immediately came to mind.  
>A sound came from deep in the other Dean's throat. It sounded like a half growl half chortle.<br>"You think she can help?"  
>Dean's eyes snapped open. "What are you talking about?" He demanded.<br>His alter ego laughed fully this time.  
>"You think your princess can change things? I have news for you. She's dead and so are you. She's been here two thousand years and she hasn't been able to change anything about her situation. In fact she may have gone insane long ago. You really don't know...do you?"<br>He started to circle Dean as he said these last words. Dean bored his eyes into floorboards so he wouldn't betray his fear.  
>"What do you know about Ariadne? He demanded. "If you hurt her, I swear to God..."<br>"She couldn't save herself from the pit, and neither could you. She's weak...and so are you. The only reason she hasn't gone insane, is because she's hid from Lucifer for two thousand years. She's a coward Dean, and sooner or later, she's gonna fail you...just like your father and just like Sammy."  
>Dean lunged at his reflection, but found he was grasping at air.<br>There came a chuckle from behind him, and whirled about to see his evil reflection.  
>"You're wrestling with your mind Dean, you know it's true. When are you gonna wake up and face it? You're dead, and the only thing you have to do now is accept the inevitable."<br>"No!" Dean shouted charging again. But his other self-had once again vanished. Dean turned full circle and saw that this time he was alone in the room. But the whispers were still there. He could see those eyes in his head and felt as if he were being sucked into them.  
>He put his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut as the whispers in his head grew louder and louder. He stumbled over to a corner and sank to his knees as the pounding in his head got worse.<br>Suddenly he was in intense heat...and darkness. Almost like hell but different. He opened his eyes and saw that his evil twin had multiplied and they were standing all around him.  
>"You can't stop it!" They all cried in unison. "This...this is what you're gonna become!"<em>  
>Dean sat up with a gasp and winced as his manacles dug into his skin. Cursing, he blinked hard as the full force of the dream washed over him.<br>Ariadne came to mind, but if what demon Dean had said was true, there was nothing that he could do to stop his downward spiral, thinking anything but was surely the beginning of madness.  
>The princess had been nothing more than a diversion from his daily routine. For all he knew, Lucifer might have sent her to torture him with visions of what might have been, which was the worst devise by far.<br>"Shut up Winchester, you're losing it. She wouldn't have told you everything she did if it wasn't true."  
>But the thoughts wouldn't leave him alone. Because he had forgotten that Ariadne was in face a spirit….just like him.<p>

Ω

Ariadne's hands were clenched into fists.

She had been walking for the last hour, following this demon all the way to kingdom come and back, trying to squeeze out any information that she could about the nature of what Hell had planned for Dean Winchester, but so far she had met with zero success.

The only thing she had realized was that the farther she went into the center of Hell, the hotter it became until she was literally panting from the heat. She rubbed a hand across her forehead trying for the millionth time to wipe away the sweat that was forming each time she lowered her hand from wiping it away.

She was also trying to ignore the pain.

Ariadne knew that the deeper she went in Hell's core, the more it would hurt her. She climbed over hills that were steadily looking like mountains after the demon, she walked down into valleys where the screams were all she heard and the blood sprayed up into her face as she walked by the racks, where she thought the pain would cripple her and where she had nearly fallen on her face because her muscles had seized up from the agony and refused to listen to her.

But somehow she hadn't.

Somehow, stumbling was the only thing she had managed to do. No falling, no tripping. But there was a lot of weeping.

Ariadne was a hunter, and so she existed to prevent the unnecessary loss of life. And everything happening around her was unnecessary.

These were people, regardless of who they were and what they had done while they were alive….they were still _people._

All the times she had tried to compartmentalize, to remind herself that this was the situation she was in and like it or not, it was real and there was nothing she could do about it. But that conclusion just didn't sit well with her.

Ariadne didn't want to recall the times she had sat in Lucifer's dungeons, legs pulled up to her chest, hands clamped over her ears to block out the screams, because each time she heard them, she _hurt._ But Hell had sharpened her memory. Ariadne remembered everything….to the point where there were many times that she had questioned her sanity. Whether she truly wondered if Hell had broken her completely and she was too far gone to realize.

She shook the thoughts away, they were uncomfortable and she didn't like to focus on uncomfortable things.

Ariadne had been so lost in thought that she hadn't realized that the demon she was following had stopped and she nearly plowed right into it, or rather right through it, before she ground herself to a halt.

She glanced at the demon, and after a moments hesitation came to stand beside it. She followed its beady eyes down into the valley and what she saw was worse then anything she had observed before.

Ariadne was standing on the crest of a hill looking down into yet another valley. Except this one was more or less a gorge. It was wider then all the rest, and deeper as well. Whereas the valley Dean had been chained in was like a shallow bowl, this one was like a ravine. It embodied a V shape, so it appeared as if you had to dig your way down in order to make it into the valley safely and that was minus the horrible spiked plants that were crowding in from every direction making the descent that much more difficult.

The demon, after a brief pause, reached into the pouch hanging from its waist and withdrew a sheet of parchment clipped to a piece of wood. Coming as close as she dared, Ariadne peered over its shoulder and saw two words appear on the paper written in the common tongue that all demons spoke. Having been there the last two millennia, she was fluent in the harsh rough language, and so upon seeing the two words written at the top of the page, she felt her blood run cold.

Dean Winchester.

So the bastards were keeping a record! This could only mean one of a few things. She had known the minute she saw the mark on Dean's chest, that he was a person of interest to them. But after subjecting him to the rats and to the torment of Prometheus, she knew that something else was happening. Something big.

There was something horrible in store for Dean Winchester. Something that Alastair himself was seeing to personally. The head demon never personally oversaw the torture of a prisoner unless there were incredibly sinister and important reasons behind it for Hell.

She had to know.

Which was why even as the demon pocketed the page and began making its way down into the ravine, that she sucked up her courage and followed him.

The minute she put one foot on the downward slope however, a wave of pain so intense that she had forgotten, washed over her and her legs buckled.

Unfortunately, Ariadne had forgotten that she was on a downward slope so the moment her legs buckled, she tumbled down the slope nearly hitting the spiky plants and cutting her hands open on the rocks and glass like shards protruding from the soil.

She landed in a heap at the bottom of the ravine after what felt like hours upon hours of tumbling, and lay there stunned for a few minutes. She was grateful that the spell that was concealing her presence also hid any sounds she might make.

Ariadne lay there, unable to move because the pain around her was so intense. Not only every muscle but every joint felt like it was on fire. Unbidden tears came to her eyes, tears of pain and it took every ounce of her strength to hold them back from spilling in rivulets down her cheeks.

It took even longer for her to find the strength inside of her to look up. But when she did, she almost wished she had been blinded in the fall.

This valley was unlike the others because the slope she had fallen down was almost a ninety degree angle so it was more of a plunge then a fall. The soil here was ashy grey and the bones of previous victims were protruding from the light soil.

Normally Ariadne was used to this, so she did not pay the bones much mind. What rose above her line of vision she did however. In fact she wondered what she had had such a soft albeit damp landing.

When she gathered the soil into her hands and shaking, raised them to her face, she knew.

Ariadne had landed in blood.

The entire bottom of the ravine was covered in a pool of blood about ankle deep, and yet the demons made their way about the area as if this was nothing new. It wasn't a very wide valley, but the mountains that rose on either side of it were incredibly imposing. No grass grew on the sound of the mountain ahead of her nor on the one she had just fallen down. Instead it was embedded with sharp coarse fibers that had cut her feet and already causing her blood to mix with the pool she had landed in. The land masses were all shades of ash grey, dull browns and smoky blacks. A thin vapor as sickly as the grey soil of Gahanna was moving across the ground on them slowly.

Ariadne realized it was all the heat that was being released from the soil. Gahanna was built on a hotbed. A few miles beneath her was the core of the earth, which was why the air was heated a thousand times beyond that of a boiling pot. Which was why the blood that surrounded her already felt almost scalding.

The mountain peaks ahead of her were extremely tall, but from them, she had no doubt that the whole of Gahanna could be seen. And like everything else it was ash grey.

That was the way it was with Gahanna. The further in you went, the harder it was to leave because the hills grew taller, the ground grew sharper, and the sting was more pronounced.

The sky above her was thick and red with clouds stuffed with rain. It looked as if any minute the sky would open up and rain down upon them.

Over the top of the mountain, she suddenly saw the peak of a structure she had thought she would never see again. A tall dark imposing domicile that she was all too familiar with and that refused to leave her waking or dreaming thoughts. The screams around her seemed to fade as she remembered what had happened there….

Ariadne began to shake, whether it be from disgust, or anger or sorrow, she didn't know, but she found she couldn't stop.

Suddenly there was a splash nearby. Ariadne looked up to see that the demon she had followed had come down after her and was steadily plodding its way through the shallow pool of blood away from her, causing sprays of red to splash into the air making the already red sky even redder.

Somehow Ariadne managed to get to her feet and follow him. She didn't know how she managed it, but she did. Each step splashed beneath her feet causing shivers to course through her veins. She had to resist the intense urge to look down whenever she raised a foot.

The monster she had followed had stopped suddenly and was conferring with another which looked suspiciously similar to it. The first creature head the paper out and the two began to confer in their hoarse nasally language.

Having been here for two thousand years, she could understand what they were saying.

_"__How did he respond to it?" _the second demon asked. The first hissed.

_"__Like any other, he didn't scream a lot so it wasn't as fun…..but he's no different than anyone else. We'll break him eventually." _Ariadne sucked in a breath.

_"__Yeah, it shouldn't be too long now, the mighty Dean Winchester will be brought low soon enough."_

_ "__And then it will be our time. Lucifer will never look down on us again. We will be the one's he sends out."_

_ "__Indeed, inform Alastair of his progress. The bastard will want to know."_

The first demon winced at his callous use of the word. But he turned from the other creature and slogged off through the blood in the direction of the dark structure. And Ariadne knew she had followed the beast as far as she dared. There was no way she could tail him now if that was where he was going. She brave, not stupid. Plus she had a feeling she had learned all that the demons here knew as well.

It was time to head back to where Dean was. He needed to know what was going on. Slowly, painstakingly she got to her feet. Suddenly a high pitched scream drew her attention away from the scene at her feet.

Then she decided to look up. A whisper of breathe hissed out from between her teeth and she ducked her head away.

Crucifixion was the most horrific torture ever devised by the Romans. It was the most barbaric and the cruelest, simply because it took the longest to kill. You were suspended in the air hanging from non-shaved wooden planks full of splinters and then had stakes drive through your wrists and feet and finally, your neck was restrained to the top most pole with a rough coarse rope. You hung there until you simply died from blood loss or the pressure on your heart caused it to explode.

This was exactly the scene before her. Ariadne gazed, horror struck as the three crosses were raised into the air and the three pathetic souls hanging upon them screamed for mercy, rending the air with their howls.

It was as if the demons were deaf however and Ariadne would never cease to remember with horror, that that was not only what they had been trained to do, but was the only thing that these demons knew.

Ariadne as she stood ankle deep in the blood and watched as the three crosses were raised above the ashy hills and revealed the stark black color of the vivid red sky, realized that this was something that the demons believed to be the norm.

While demons like Alastair could revel in the screams of the tortured as being music to their ears, these demons ignored the sounds simply because they didn't know how to respond to them and hearing them had become as normal as hearing any other sound.

Indifference is a powerful thing, and Ariadne believed it to be an even more disturbing force then evil itself because indifference was a cold power that couldn't be understood.

Standing, with her feet covered in blood, appalled at the scene before her, Ariadne had forgotten that the demon she had followed to this site had disappeared, but at the time it didn't matter, because as the screams seared her brain and the pain forced its way into every crevice of her body, Ariadne couldn't move. She was literally rooted to the spot from the pain.

It was a lucky thing that she had barely the amount of wits about her to remember that she had a spell to maintain. And so it was with great effort that she managed to do so.

She was unable to look away as the crosses were dropped down into indents beneath the blood and soil, and a sharp wet deep tearing sound could be heard which she recognized over her nausea as the sound of skin tearing.

The souls on the cross, although Ariadne couldn't identify them as souls anymore, only masses of torn red flesh with mouths, were uttering gut wrenching in human sounds that made her want to drop to her knees in the blood and weep for their pain.

However a second later, another sound, more horrible then the first, jolted her out of the stupefied haze she was in and gave her cause to look around.

For the second time in the last few days Ariadne forgot the presence of pain that had invaded her body and felt herself go white hot, her vision turning red with rage.

About fifty yards to her left, at the base of the mountain that hid the dark structure behind it, a horrific scene was taking place.

A demon, and Ariadne recognized this one with disgust, as the ones possessed only of muscle and bone and protruding eyes, as the ones in charge of making sure that a captured soul was physically fit for hell.

She remembered Dean had told her something similar. That he had gone through a…..physical assessment to determine whether or not he was fit for torture.

What a joke! But all of that fled from her mind the instant that she saw what, or rather who, it was torturing.

A small child who looked no more than a year in age and who had just seemed to be learning the ins and outs of walking was toddling away from them, letting out high pitched squeals of terror as the demon slowly and methodically continued raising his whip and lashing him with it. There were already red slashes and nasty purplish bruises across his round cheeks. He had golden blonde, almost angel like hair and his eyes, from what Ariadne could see, were the same deep emerald green that Deans were.

Ariadne had been angry many times before because of injustice, she had been furious and livid. But now, a feeling like she had never felt before came over her.

It literally began to seem as if there was a roaring in her veins. Her lips pulled from her teeth and a feral snarl emanated from her throat.

Though she was hidden from sight, a sudden deafening concussion shook the clearing causing all the inhabiting demons to look about wildly and drop to their knees covering their ears as if a searing pain had robbed them of their ability to move.

Ariadne turned and concentrated her ferocity on the demon which had cornered the small child, who had by this time, dropped to the ground with the rest of its kind.

As she concentrated her gaze on it, the ground began to shake causing some of the souls to scream even more loudly then before.

Ariadne felt the pain would split her in half from what the souls were enduring, but she couldn't afford to let that stop her, so she turned her pain and rage on the three demons who had been torturing the small child and concentrated her full fury on them.

There was a horrific screeching sound and then Ariadne felt the pressure on her release, causing her to collapse to the ground or rather into the blood with a splash.

She looked up to the see that the monster had suddenly burst into flame and was rolling around on the ground in agony. The small child who had been screaming from the pain of the whips laid across his back and face had stopped running around was staring at the bright orange flames in front of him.

He wasn't the only one, the other demons crowded in on the scene and upon realizing that one of their own had been attacked, they turned and fled, leaving the child standing alone in a pool of blood.

Instantly Ariadne's fury melted away leaving behind only sorrow. She quickly released the spell concealing her presence, and approached the little boy.

He looked around and then finally up at her. His expression didn't change, but he took a half step back, lost his balance landed with a plop on his behind.

Immediately his wails started up again, and Ariadne, unable to hold herself back any longer, hurried forward and snatched him up.

"Hush now, little one, it's alright now," she whispered.

The moment she placed her arms around him and brought him close to her, the boy stopped crying and looked up at her, his green eyes full of fear. He began squirming slightly, as if trying to get away and Ariadne felt her heart twist in sorrow.

No child should ever have to look that afraid. She held him close and didn't allow him to move, holding him both firmly but gently. After a few minutes, the little boy came to the realization that she meant him no harm and looked up at her again. But this time, his eyes were full of wonder and confusion. Something in her eyes must have told him that she wasn't a monster, because he wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face in her shoulder.

Without another word, Ariadne pulled him closer to her, stroking the back of his head and murmuring comforting words.

It was then that she realized they were still in a precarious situation so she quickly concealed the two of them again before examining the little boy more carefully.

Aside from his torn clothing and the numerous scratches and bruises on his face legs and arms, he otherwise looked alright.

Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief when she realized this because it meant that he must be newly arrived given who was torturing him. His eyes didn't have that maddened gleam and the dead look to them that so many others here had. He looked scared certainly, but not insane.

For that she was very thankful. He was far too young to lose his mind in a place like which was followed up by the question, what in the name of God was he doing here?

Then, as she and small boy made their way painstakingly up out of the ravine, hurrying because the demons who had beat feet earlier were starting to return, that Ariadne remembered a common practice of demon worship when she had been alive.

It only happened among the most despicable people, but it did happen. Sometimes in order to obtain great wealth or power or fame, a person would sell their soul. But it was only the most despicable mad people who resided in the hills outside of Athens and adhered to pagan practices that sold the souls of their children before they were old enough to make the decision to refuse. Which is what had most likely happened to this little boy.

Ariadne gasped when she realized this because she thought the practice of sacrificing one's children to the fires of hell had died out in the sixth century as it was an absolutely barbaric and outlandish custom. But apparently it was still happening.

As Ariadne climbed out of the ravine, trying her best not let the pain of the souls still in the valley get to her, she made a vow, a vow that she would protect this child as long as she remained in Hell.

He would see no more violence or pain because she would watch over him.

With a great effort, the two finally reached the top of the hill and Ariadne cast a quick glance backward, tears flooding her eyes when she beheld the three corpses that still hung, screaming on the crosses.

"Don't look back little one," she whispered into the little boy's ear, who was still hiding his face in her shoulder. "You will not see this place again."

Then she turned and carried him away from that horrific place, the screams of perdition following her like an animal that would never lose her scent.

Ω

Dean rolled over, before sitting up and punching the ground as if trying to make it more comfortable.

It was useless, he was in too much pain to sleep and even if he could the last thing he wanted to do was have another nightmare. The irony was creating a bitter taste in his mouth. Demons were waiting for him when he woke up and his own personal demon was waiting for him behind closed eyelids.

It was getting so Dean couldn't tell the difference between waking and sleeping. They were both pretty much the damn same. Both of them were enough to drive him out of his mind with fear of what would come next. But what his evil twin always said to him in these night terrors seemed to reinforce whatever happened the following day and as powerful and comforting as she was, even Ariadne couldn't chase away the fear of his mind.

Speaking of which, where the hell was she?

Dean looked around. He had expected her to be there when he woke up. Then he cursed. How selfish was he? Lucifer was out for her blood and every minute she spent with him, she was in incredible danger. Being an escaped fugitive with only so far to run must have been exhausting. She would for eternity, always have a price on her head, although Dean knew there was only so far she could run because no one had escaped from Hell before. And it was inevitable that one day, Lucifer would find her again and drag her back.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean hissed. "Are you trying to make that happen Winchester?" Great, now he was talking to himself.

Ariadne was resourceful, she had escaped him five hundred years ago, she just had to keep that racket going until…..until….

Until what?

It's not exactly like she would be able to escape. Dean didn't even know how one would go about doing that. Was there an exit from Hell that one could simply find and walk out of? If so he had no idea where it would be located and how one would even begin to go about searching.

Not that he had much of a chance. It was madness to think that an escape from Hell was possible, but the thought of him and Ariadne spending eternity downstairs was thoroughly nauseating and overwhelming. He knew she had been here for an eternity as it was and she hadn't succumbed to the torture, and she had been under the scourge of Lucifer.

But the round of it was, Dean knew he wasn't that strong. Ariadne was different. There was something about her that he just knew wouldn't break. It had to do with her will of course, but physically there was just something to her nature that was incapable of breaking. And Dean knew he wasn't that strong, he could hold out for a while, but he knew he would inevitably end up on his knees.

That's the way it always was, wasn't it. He was weak, and he always would be. He was weak because he hated being alone. He was weak because he couldn't stand up to his father when he and Sam were kids, not telling him that deep down while saving people was the best part of this job, he hated it. He was weak because he couldn't stop Sam from leaving and because he couldn't keep his family together or stop his father from selling his soul for him. He was weak because he wasn't able to prevent Sam from dying thus prompting him to sell away his own soul. He was weak because he both loved and hated being a hunter. Hated that every time he killed something he killed a part of his soul too.

In fact he had lost his soul long before he ever signed that contract with the demon bitch at the crossroads. There wasn't much left of him to damn.

Then he shook himself. Where the hell were all these thoughts coming from? But he knew a second later. He was in Hell. And being in this place even for a short while had turned his mind inside out and all the black thoughts and self-loathing notions had been revealed and emptied out in front of him. Put on display for all of Hell to see.

Dean brought his dark thoughts to a halt. He didn't want to think about them, even though there seemed to be nothing else to think about.

Except Ariadne.

Damn…..where was she? It had been hours.

Dean's gut clenched when he thought of all the possibilities that could've happened. What if Lucifer had found her? What if she had been captured by demons? What if-

All of a sudden he felt something touch his mind and he physically reeled back before he realized that the touch was both familiar and comforting.

"Ari?" he whispered tentatively, knowing somehow that she would be able to hear him. She was strange like that.

_I'm here._

Just those two words were enough to make Dean sag against the pole he was chained to, speechless with relief. The next instant, his anger spiked, and ignoring the pain still coursing through his veins from when the hellhound's teeth had punctured his skin, he sat forward and glared at his surroundings.

A second later she appeared about ten feet in front of him and Dean started in on her.

"Where the hell were you Ari? I was losing my damn mind from worry. This is Hell after all, you think you could warn me before taking off like that-"

He cut off in mind sentence when he got a better look at her, and his breath caught in horror.

She was covered in blood, her dress was torn and she was breathing hard, scratches covered her shoulders. She appeared exhausted.

She looked more terrible then Dean had ever seen her and it scared the holy hell out of him. He wrenched at his chains, trying to get closer to her to observe the damage, but cursed when they restrained him.

"Oh God, what happened? Are you alright?" he asked in a rush. The former princess nodded and tiredly lowered herself to the ground next to him. It was then that Dean caught sight of the bundle in her arms.

"What's that?" he asked, more curious then afraid.

Carefully, Ariadne lowered the object she was carrying so he could look and Dean gasped when he saw a baby boy, no more than twelve months of age nestled in her arms. His eyes were shut and he appeared fast asleep. He had hair that literally looked like it had been spun from gold, and Dean was reminded of pictures he had seen when he was little. His hair had looked exactly like that as well.

"Where did you…..how did you…?"

He broke off when he realized he was sounding completely idiotic. Ariadne raised a finger to her lips in the universal "shut your mouth" sign and Dean realized that her hands were trembling.

"What happened?" he whispered fiercely. A sigh emanated from between the princess's lips and she raised tired eyes to meet his.

_The demon that tortured you….I followed him. _Dean buried his face in his hands much like he had done up top, suppressing a groan.

"And just what the hell did you do that for?" he almost growled. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack woman? I swear to God sometimes you're just like Sam-" He broke off when he mentioned his brother's name, grimacing.

Fortunately, Ariadne didn't seem to notice his lapses in monologue, because she raised another finger to her lips in a bid to get him to quiet down. The baby in her arms turned, and raised a small chubby hand to his face, resting it right underneath his right eye as if trying to wipe away nonexistent tears.

Dean's throat clenched up as he looked at the small form fast asleep. His anger heightened to ferocious proportions when he thought of what the demons might have done to him.

"How the hell did he get here?" he demanded. Ariadne's already sad face turned even more sorrowful.

_It was a common practice when I was alive. Outside of Athens there existed many villages that worshiped the devil and cannibalistic deities as well as demons. In order to obtain something or to appease the objects of their worship, they would frequently sacrifice their children to the fire or to demons. It was a completely barbaric form of worship and my uncle beheaded anyone who practiced it publicly so as to make an example of them. He was appalled by the custom. I thought the custom had died out centuries ago. But then I found this little boy in the company of demons._

Dean's face turned as ashy grey as the hills that surrounded his prison.

"Do you mean to tell me that people are still following this horrible religion, worshiping demons and sacrificing to them?"

Ariadne nodded sadly. Dean slapped the chain that bound his wrist in frustration.

"What kind of soulless dick bag would go around selling the souls of their children? My God, Dad trained us to save innocents, not damn them to hell!"

_Especially children, _Ariadne added. _My uncle believed a demon hunter's chief priority was protecting the next generation. Ensuring that they were well cared for and do not fall into the wrong hands. For children are the future generation and the ones who will lead the world into new eras._

"My Dad, always talked about it like this, saving people, hunting things….the family business," Dean put in bitterly. A little more bitterly then he realized because when Ariadne looked up at him again, her look pierced him through.

_My uncle referred to it as, by the sweat of our brows and blood of evil spilt, let undying glory be our reward,_ she said. Dean gave a small grim smile.

"So basically blood guts and glory?" he asked. Ariadne didn't smile, but an odd sparkle lit her eyes.

_In a way. _

Dean's smile faded as he glanced down at the baby boy nestled in her arms. He was still fast asleep and the hunter hoped he stayed that way for a long time, long enough that he would never see what went on there.

_What kind of sick bastard sells their child to a place like this? _He wondered as he looked at the angelic little boy who was still asleep in Ari's arms. He watched as the lock of blonde hair that curled slightly onto the boy's forehead, moved gently up and down from his quiet and slow exhalations of breath, and how his lips moved slightly in his sleep. He was suddenly reminded that that was very similar to the way Sam had slept, and he felt a pang in his chest.

"I wonder what his name is?" he muttered to himself. Ariadne glanced up at him, surprise decorating her beautiful face into an uncertain mask.

_I'm not sure, but whatever it was, we'll never know now._ Dean rubbed the side of his face musing over something.

"Well then maybe you should name him," he suggested. Ariadne stared at him as if he had just suggested he had found a way out of hell.

_Me? Why should I be the one to do that? Naming a child is an extremely personal affair that should only be a matter for the child and its parents._

Dean rolled his eyes, it was the only mannerism he could pursue without causing himself any pain. "God, were all you Greeks so prim and proper?" Ariadne huffed and looked like she was about to retort, but Dean didn't let her finish.

"I know we're not his parents Ari, but right now, we're all he's got and you're the one who rescued him. So naming should be something you should do." Ariadne in thinking, bit the edge of her lip gently and suddenly Dean lost focus. He blinked and shook his head after a minute, bringing him back to reality.

_I suppose you're right, _she replied, ceding his point. _But what on earth should we call him?_ That brought Dean up short. "We?" he asked. Ariadne nodded.

_Like you said, we're all he has, and if he is to be named, it should be by the people who will watch over him._

Dean frowned and shook his chains. "Ari how the hell am I supposed to watch over a kid? I'm in chains for half of the day like a horse at the water trough and the other half of my day is divided up into pieces….and I'M the pieces!"

Ariadne saw the despondent look on his face and felt her heart wrench. She knew how hopeless their situation was. It was just a matter of time before something even more horrible happened.

But looking down at the helpless bundle in her arms, she couldn't help but feel like maybe, possibly perhaps, something not so bad had happened. Maybe even something good.

So she did something that in a secret place in her heart, she had wanted to do, but lacked the nerve. She reached out and pressed a gentle hand on the side of Dean's face.

The hunter was so shocked he stiffened up like a board, eyes locked on hers. Ariadne searched his face for a moment and read nothing but concern there, and none of it was for himself.

_Have you ever thought about being a father Dean?_ He gaped at her. "No…..not really….I mean…..in my line of work….raising a family…..it just wasn't a priority for me," he finished, mumbling the words at the ground. He knew she didn't believe him.

Truth was, he had actually thought about it a lot. He had never met a woman he felt like he could settle down with, but deep down he had always wanted a family. There were even times when he lay awake at night wondering what he would name his kids if he ever did decide to go after that.

Ariadne gently took her hand away from his face. It hadn't been her intention to cause him pain.

She glanced down at the little boy in her arms who hadn't moved an inch, trying to decide on a proper name that would suit a child damned to Hell. She didn't realize that Dean was looking at him too and his expression was one of wonder and speculation.

The baby boy was mesmerizing. In fact his face reminded Dean of someone….a small little eight year old boy, with dark hair and eyes like his mom. A little boy who was tough and a lot like Dean. A little boy who he had rescued from some pretty awful monsters a year ago. A little boy whose dad had walked out on him and of who Dean was quite fond of. A little boy who Dean would never see again.

Ariadne sighed which startled Dean into looking up. Her brow was furrowed as she gazed down at the sleeping infant in her arms. _I don't know,_ she mused, half to herself and half to him. _It would appear I'm drawing a blank as to what to call him. He needs a strong name, a name that is as brave as he will have to be if Hell is to be his home._

Dean rubbed the side of his face, an idea coming to him. "Well that's true and you're right he will need something strong," he said. "And I think I know the perfect name."

Ariadne looked up in surprise. She knew Dean had said she should be the one to name the child, but if he had an idea, she wanted to hear it.

_You do?_ She asked, _what is it?_

"Ben. I think we should name him Ben."

Ω


End file.
